


The Day I Met You

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Meetings [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Single Father (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-05
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 132,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Tiler is a photographer and a father of five. Rose Tyler is the Vitex heiress by day and a Torchwood agent by night. One thing they have in common is the loss of the love of their life. When Dave helps an injured Rose, they have no idea that this chance encounter will change their lives forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter picks up at the end of episode 2 of _Single Father_ after Michelle has dropped off Evie at Dave’s.

In that book which is my memory,  
On the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you,  
Appear the words, ‘Here begins a new life’.  
— Dante, La Vita Nuova

Part 1

One

Dave took a deep breath as he reached to close Lucy’s door. The urge to tell her that he might have found her father was strong, but she had been out all day and was staying overnight at Beattie’s. He dropped his hand to his side, tilting his head back as he sighed. It was probably better this way. The things he had learned about her that afternoon had left him reeling. He needed to clear his head before he told her anything. He wasn’t even sure how he would tell her, not after the silent treatment she had been giving him since she’d sought refuge at her grandmother’s. The disconnection she felt began to rub off on him. All those years he’d regarded her as his daughter; he loved her just as much as he loved the other four children.

He had no idea what he’d do – what they’d do – when he told her about her father. The notion of breaking up the family even more made him lightheaded with terror. Anna was right. Lucy was a lot like her mother. If he lost her too, he knew it would break his heart. Again. But he had promised to find her real father, and he wanted to keep that promise. He didn’t want to give her cause for further grief.

It hurt, badly, when she’d accused him of not caring about her, of not loving her like he loved Evie and the boys. And all he’d been able to do was sit there and stare at her in disbelief, unable to say anything her, when what he wanted most was to pull her into his arms and hug her. The look in her eyes had been so hard and cold he’d been afraid of her.

Dave lifted his head and closed the door to Lucy’s room, as if the gesture were enough to bat away the cobwebs into which he had gotten hopelessly, helplessly, tangled.

This was no good, he couldn’t think like this, cooped up in the house that was full of memories of her and her mother. He needed to get out and clear his head. A ride on his bike was exactly what he needed. Pulling on his leather jacket, he skipped down the stairs, grabbed his keys and pulled the front door closed behind him.

Since it had clouded over at nightfall, it was very dark and the air carried the distinct smell of rain. Nevertheless, Dave opened the garage door and pushed the bike onto the gravel drive. Straddling the bike, he pulled on his helmet then reached down and turned the key. The engine turned over and purred to life with a satisfying thrum that grew to a roar as he turned into the street and accelerated. The temptation to feel all of its power was great, but he knew that this time he probably wouldn’t get away with speeding down the motorway. Still, the ride in the chill night-air worked its magic on him as he zoomed over the tarmac. It glowed orange in the illumination of the street-lights, looking almost like liquid fire. The beauty of it, the freedom of feeling the wind tear at him as he drove was something he’d never really been able to explain to Rita. She’d always been afraid of him having an accident one day, of one day learning of his death from the Headmaster.

But the Headmaster had told _him_ that _she_ had been killed in a road accident.

He had no idea how he could go on without her. The children kept him functioning to a degree but he felt like he was failing them, no matter what everybody kept telling him. Lucy didn’t want him any more and he had no idea what to do. Advice was heaped upon him but no one told him what to _do_. Rita would know what to do, she’d always known what Lucy was thinking. Their bond had been special, and now that it had been severed there was no one to anchor Lucy, nothing but the idea of finding her father.

Dave accelerated briefly to overtake a van, then changed lanes gain. The motorway was virtually empty at this time of night. Although he felt tired enough to sleep for a month he hadn’t been sleeping well. It was at night when he missed Rita most. It had been the time when they had shared their thoughts about the day, the children, when they had made plans and when they had made love. He missed her so much he sometimes felt unable to breathe. Sleep was elusive as he lay pondering the events of the day, and when he finally did fall asleep the annoying chirp of the awful alarm clock woke him what seemed to be only minutes later.

Rita had known Lucy’s father, of that he had been certain. And yet she had told everyone that Lucy was the product of a one-night stand. He could understand why she’d told Lucy that story. He didn’t dare imagine what might have happened when Lucy turned eighteen and found out that her mother, the most important person in her life, had lied to her, even if it was to protect her. What he could not understand was why she hadn’t told _him_. He’d always thought that Rita and he trusted each other. Finding out how involved Stuart had been in Lucy’s life had been surprising to say the least. But when Stuart had told Dave that he hadn’t known about him or Evie and the boys he had felt lightheaded with betrayal, anger and humiliation. How Rita could have done that to him he had no idea. He had trusted and loved her unconditionally, and she had used it to hide the truth from him.

Dave’s mind was reeling. He still couldn’t understand why she had done that to him, and the questions chased each other round and round in his head. The ride gave him time to think but it failed to give him the answers he needed. The truth was he would probably never get any answers. Over the years he’d learned to accept that Rita tended to keep things to herself. It must have made her very lonely, he supposed, and despite his disappointment and anger he felt sorry for her.

He was on his way back home, driving through the empty streets of suburbs and business districts. A light drizzle had begun to fall that made the orange glow of the street more lively, sparkly even. He slowed down as he approached a crossroads; the traffic lights were green but he approached them with great care nonetheless. Satisfied that he had the road to himself he drove on, beginning to feel a little calmer. There might not be any answers, and after what he had learned that afternoon, he wasn’t sure he even wanted them. He had found Lucy’s father, and that was that. He would replace the padlock on Rita’s tin box and stow it away safely, including the diary she’d kept before the accident.

Putting the past behind him, the past Rita had wanted buried, was the best he could do in the circumstances. Dave closed his eyes for the matter of a heartbeat in relief. It was an ever so brief gesture, an instant of closing and opening his eyes, but it was enough time for his life to change once again.

A thunderclap resounded through the ravine that was the empty street between abandoned buildings, followed by a blinding flash of light. He knew, at the moment it happened, that it could not be a thunderstorm. Startled, he braked, instinctively jerking the handlebars around a little, away from the blinding light. The light pulsed, once, twice, and as it was fading he saw that a body was hurled through the air as if in an explosion. There was, however, no debris and no fire, nothing to indicate that there had been an explosion of any kind. He braked and his bike skidded to a halt, nearly toppling with the force of the manoeuvre.

Breathing hard, he just sat for a few moments, his gloved fingers tight around the handlebars. He was shivering violently, thinking that this was how Rita had died, that that police car had not noticed her and hit her squarely, hurling her through the air and killing her almost instantly. The same could have happened right now, he could have run that person over, taking a life, destroying someone’s family, without having had a chance to avoid them.

He turned the key and the once reassuring purr of the engine died. What had he done?

Afraid of being sick, he unbuckled the chin strap of his helmet and tore it off his head, sucking in lungfuls of chilly, damp night air. He curled around his helmet as he leaned forward on his bike, rubbing the rough palms of his gloves over his face. What had just happened? He couldn’t possibly have hit that person, could he? He would have noticed the thump against his bike, would have fallen himself. But nothing like that had happened. The person lay still, in a crumpled heap, several metres away from him.

Sitting up, Dave tried to calm his breathing. He took off his gloves and put them on the saddle in front of him. Then, in the eerie silence that followed the thunderclap, he heard the soft moan. It roused him from his shock. The person was still alive.

He scrambled off his bike and rushed to the body lying on the ground. It was a woman. She lay prone, her blonde hair concealing her face. Part of her jacket and shirt had been torn away, how or why he had no idea, revealing burnt flesh on her right side and back. Hesitating at first, he took a deep breath, knelt and pushed her hair out of her face. The injury looked bad, and he needed to focus on her face, but he was terrified of what he’d find. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to look at injuries like that on a woman’s face. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew that one didn’t suffer burns like these in a road accident. But neither had there been an explosion. What the hell had happened?

He bent low so he could look at her more closely. “Miss? Miss, can you hear me?” he asked softly, covering her right hand with his. It was unhurt and he felt safe to touch her. He tried to ignore the burns.

Thankfully, there were only a few cuts and scrapes on her face. Her full lips moved as if to speak, and her eyelids fluttered open. He held his breath as he watched her come to, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Can you hear me?” he asked again.

Her eyes locked with his. In the fiery glow of the street lights it was impossible to tell what colour they were, but he could tell that they were glassy with pain. They probably were really beautiful.

She whispered something, and he encouraged her to repeat what she’d said. “Doctor?” she managed to say after several attempts.

“No, no, I’m not a doctor,” he said, “but I’ll call an ambulance straight away. Don’t... don’t worry.” He sat up, never letting go of her hand, and dug for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. He fumbled with it out so clumsily he nearly dropped it.

“Doc... Doctor. Not... not 999,” the young woman moaned.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded.

She swallowed, mustering all her strength to speak to him. “My... my phone. Speed... dial. Three. Please? Doctor?”

“I have to call an ambulance.”

“No!” she moaned, and something in her tone, the desperation, made him pause. “Please.” She gave his fingers a barely noticeable squeeze.

Dave sighed, and, putting away his phone, he reached into her jacket pocket for hers. When he found it, he was torn between hoping that it hadn’t broken during the fall and that it had because he was sure it would save him a lot of trouble. CCTV cameras must have picked up the accident by now. It wouldn’t be too long before emergency services and the police arrived.

The phone still worked. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking the woman’s hand again. He needed to keep her conscious. He speed-dialled and waited for the call to connect. The screen had informed him that the recipient of the call was someone called Mickey.

“’s Mickey,” she moaned.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Dave reassured her, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. He heard the dialling tone, twice, three times.

“Doctor,” she moaned again. “’s good. Don’t... don’t leave. Yeah?”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” She was someone’s daughter or mother or wife. He couldn’t leave her alone like this. There hadn’t been anyone for Rita when she’d died; it had happened too fast, which in a way had been a blessing. But he’d never had the chance to say goodbye to her.

He jumped slightly when the call was answered. “Hey, Rose. Where are you?” came a cheerful voice.

“Um. It’s... Dave Tiler, actually. I... I’ve got Rose’s phone. Am I speaking with Mickey?” he stammered.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“There’s been an accident, and... and Rose, I suppose it is, Rose, she wanted me to call you instead of an ambulance. Which I’m going to do anyway. Call an ambulance,” he added.

The man’s voice was crisp when he replied. “Where are you?”

Dave looked around and found the street name. He gave it to Mickey. “How bad is it?” Mickey asked.

“She’s got some... some burns. They look pretty bad,” Dave managed to say, trying not to look at her injuries. “But she’s conscious.”

“Don’t call an ambulance. We’ll be with you in a few minutes,” Mickey said.

“But...”

“It’ll be fine. Just stay with her, yeah?” Mickey asked.

Stunned, Dave nodded.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Good, don’t call an ambulance.” Then the line went dead.

“They’re coming,” Dave said, hitting the disconnect button. “Rose?”

She moaned. “Yeah,” she said faintly.

Dave hesitated before he touched her hair and brushed it back, quite unnecessarily, and then he started to caress her reassuringly. He tried not to think too much about why they didn’t want an ambulance. Following sudden inspiration, he undid the fastenings of his jacket, took it off and draped it over Rose. He needed to keep her warm, it was the least he could do. He was reluctant to move her, not knowing if she had injured her spine. He cursed himself for not having thought of this earlier.

“Doctor?” Rose murmured.

“I’m here,” he said.

“You... sound... different.”

“Well.” She was obviously mistaking him for this doctor-person, probably because of the pain. Dave decided to play along; there wasn’t really anything else he could do. She seemed calmer now, and if playing along did the trick, so be it.

“’s nice. Like... Remember?” she asked.

He smiled. “Yeah.”

Rose sighed and her eyes fluttered shut. Dave froze, panicked. “Stay awake, Rose. Do you hear me?” He bent low again to look at her, drifting his fingers from her hair to her cheek to rouse her. His own cheek was nearly touching the rough tarmac.

“Hurts,” she moaned.

“I know,” he said, his heart breaking. He wished he could allow her to lose consciousness, but he was terrified. “It can’t be long now,” he said, more to reassure himself than her. He looked up and down the still empty and quiet street, hoping for Mickey to arrive soon. They were in a business district, so no one else had seen the accident. He still had no idea what had happened.

Eventually, Rose said, “Doctor?”

“Yeah?” He resumed stroking her cheek with more vigour. Anything to keep her awake.

“On... on the beach,” she said with difficulty. She was reliving a happy memory, and he hoped he wouldn’t damage it too much. She obviously needed him to share that memory with her, to speak for her. But of course that was quite impossible.

“Yeah?”

“I... I...” Her eyes fluttered shut as she lost consciousness after all.

“Rose? Rose!” Dave cried, patting her cheek gently to rouse her. Panic welled in him, and he cried her name again, trying to draw her out of unconsciousness. What if she collapsed and died before this Mickey person arrived? He would get into serious trouble because he was supposed to call the ambulance and the police, which he hadn’t. Cursing under his breath, he retrieved his own phone and tapped the shiny screen to dial.

He was just about to hit the connect button when he heard a car approach them at high speed, the tyres humming on the rough tarmac and the engine revving as it came to a standstill not far from them. He turned around and was blinded by the vehicle’s headlights. All he could see was that it was a huge, dark lump looming in the drizzle. Two men jumped out of the car, and as they did, another vehicle arrived. This one, he noticed, had the flashing lights and markings of an ambulance. Relief flooded through him. He cancelled the call.

The men skidded to a halt next to him, but only one, a black man, dropped to his knees. “How is she?” Dave recognised Mickey’s voice as he spoke.

“She’s just lost consciousness,” he said.

“Okay, we’ll take it from here,” Mickey said. “Thank you.” Turning towards Rose, he reached out to try to rouse her.

Dave climbed to his feet and staggered away, brushing back his damp hair. He suddenly felt cold as the drizzle seeped through his shirt and he shuddered, though it was more from the scene before him than the cold. The paramedics rushed towards Rose with their cases, a bright light was turned on that flooded the scene in harsh light. For a moment Dave thought he could see Rita lying there , and again, he found it difficult to breathe. He stumbled backwards, crashing into the bonnet of the massive black SUV in which Mickey and the other man had arrived.

This was what must have happened after Rita’s accident, this sudden flurry of activity after the initial quiet, when reality had reclaimed dominance over the scene unfolding. Dave felt his knees buckle and he crouched between the headlights of the SUV, his back against the warm radiator. He began to shiver as it registered with him how cold the night was without his jacket on, but all he really could concentrate on was his breathing.

“Sir? Are you all right, Sir?” a female voice asked him.

He looked up, startled, into the professionally friendly face of one of the paramedics. Her two colleagues were kneeling on the ground, obscuring his view of Rose with their broad backs. “Yeah, yeah,” he managed to say.

She wrapped a blanket around his shoulder and gave him a small cup of something hot. “Have some tea, Sir. We’re taking care of her now, don’t worry,” she said.

Dave obediently sipped the hot, sweet tea.

“Is there anything we can do for you? Anyone we can call?”

 _Sarah_ , he thought. _Maybe not_. Numb, he shook his head. “I... I’ll be fine,” he said, taking another sip of the tea. “Can I... can I go home?” he asked.

“We can take you home if you want,” she offered. “You’ll catch your death, driving in this weather without a jacket.”

He just stared at her. If it weren’t for the children, he’d shrug and say it was just as well. But he had them to look after. All five of them. Eventually, he nodded.

-:-

In the morning following the accident, he found it hard to focus on breakfast and was glad that the kids were out of the house. His attention wandered back to the events of the previous night and he couldn’t help wondering if it hadn’t all been a dream. He expected the police to call and ask him to give a statement of the events, but nothing happened. The only proof that this had really happened was the lack of his beloved leather jacket and the delivery of his bike. He’d had to leave it behind on the scene when Mickey had bundled him into the SUV. He had no memory of the ride, nor of falling into bed. So for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been a dream.

Several times, he was tempted to call Sarah to tell her about what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to connect the call. Would she believe him? Was she the right person to tell after all that had happened? Despite her reassurances that the kiss they had shared in the bathroom had meant nothing, he still felt awkward about it. In the end, he decided against telling her. He found his old, battered leather jacket in a closet and put it on for the ride to the studio. Maybe work would help to clear his mind. Those people, whoever they might be, had his card. If they needed something, they knew where to find him.

He needed to salvage what he could of the brochure about the Glasgow Street Museum. The morning light was gorgeous, and he might go to the School of Art for another shot of the library windows. He’d call Tanya to meet him there so he could show her what it was he was looking for in the photo.

Still, he couldn’t help wondering who those people had been. All he knew was their first names, Mickey and Rose. How was Rose? Would she recover from her injuries? What had happened to her in the first place?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave Tiler is a photographer and a father of five. Rose Tyler is the Vitex heiress by day and a Torchwood agent by night. One thing they have in common is the loss of the love of their life. When Dave helps an injured Rose, they have no idea that this chance encounter will change their lives forever.

Two

Her body had gotten tangled in the layers of unconsciousness. During a restless night she’d fight the bedcovers just as her mind hovered on the edge of wakefulness. Only now the layers pinned her down far more relentlessly. A dull burning sensation refused to lift, just like an equally dull throb reverberated throughout her whole body. She knew the sensation. She had been hurt and given powerful painkillers to sedate her so her body could heal. Which meant her latest, her last, attempt at finding the Doctor had failed. It was just as well that the meds refused to let her return to the world of the waking. It was safer where she was, in the heavy warmth of her mind. Rose kept her eyes closed and drifted off to the place where she felt weightless and free of any pain.

A constant beeping started to drip-drop through the layers and into her consciousness. It was persistent, like a leaky tap, but it failed to annoy her enough to want to bat it away. She was too tired to do that, and even if she were more alert, she knew that her body wouldn’t quite cooperate. Rose sighed and drifted off again, successfully ignoring the beeping.

The beeping, however, fought back, became louder, and the burning sensation more acute. The meds were wearing off, and they weren’t going to give her any more, at least not until she’d peeled away enough layers to let them know she was still there. Part of her thought why bother, now that she had failed to find a way back home. The other part sighed heavily and reminded her of her family. The family she’d been ready to leave behind for a life with the man she still loved. At least she wouldn’t have to carry around that guilty burden.

Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of a hospital room at night. The beeping sound came from a heart monitor beside her bed, and for a while she watched the green line zigzagging across the dark monitor. Her heart might be broken, but it still did its duty. A tear rolled down her cheek. She was lying on her side, one arm flung out, connected to an IV drip, and the opposite leg was drawn up to keep her from rolling onto her stomach.

She wondered how long she had been unconscious. Not that it mattered, not to her. All was lost now. She wanted to go back to the time before they had administered the meds. The Doctor’s face and voice had been clearer then as he reassured her, his hand strangely warm as he’d taken hers, holding it until Mickey and the team rushed in.

She wondered where she had ended up. The surface beneath her had been hard and black, like in a street, and it had been cold. It definitely hadn’t been the lab. Something had gone utterly wrong, so wrong that there was no going back, no way of finding the right universe now. It was over.

But the Doctor had been with her.

It couldn’t have been him. He wouldn’t have left her there. He’d have taken her with him, on the TARDIS, she and him together, as it should be.

Another tear trickled down her cheek and seeped into the pillow beneath her cheek. How could her mind have played such a cruel trick on her? The Doctor had seemed so real. He had taken off his heavy leather jacket and draped it over her, had spoken to her in a mellow Scottish brogue she’d found very soothing.

“Rose?”

A shadow detached itself from the darkness of a corner of the room.

“Rose!” It was Mickey. Relief lit up his face. “Rose.”

“Hey,” she rasped. Her throat was dry, and swallowing hurt. She heard ice cubes rattle in a plastic cup, and she opened her mouth eagerly when Mickey took one of the cubes and gave it to her to suck on. It was cold against her lips, but it felt heavenly.

“It’s been almost twenty-four hours,” he said, knowing exactly what she needed to hear. She sucked the ice cube into her mouth and moved it around with her tongue. It wasn’t a very big one.

“The cannon... ’s gone, right?” she managed to say. Her throat didn’t feel as sore any more, but her voice was hoarse.

“I’m afraid it is. We can’t fix it,” he said. He’d never been one to foster false hopes.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’s okay. I’m... tired,” she said, the ice now gone.

“Get some sleep, love,” Mickey said, smiling. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

-:-

In the two weeks that followed, Rose underwent treatment for the injuries she had suffered during her last jump across the Void. It hadn’t been the Doctor’s universe; it should have been clear to her the minute she set foot on that world, with death and mayhem raining down on her, burning her right side severely. She nearly wouldn’t have gotten back if it hadn’t been for the shock that made her act instinctively. Mickey told her she was hurled through the rift and into a Glasgow street where a man had found her, late at night, riding his motorcycle. That man had called him and sat with her until Jake, he and the ambulance arrived.

“For a moment I thought it was the Doctor,” Rose mused one day on her way back from physio to her room. It was her last day at Torchwood infirmary. Mickey was walking with her. “He looked like him, and he sounded... like him. Accent was wrong, though.”

“It wasn’t him, Rose,” Mickey said gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Rose sniffed and looked up, smiling bravely. “I know that. But... thinking it was him helped.”

“Yeah.”

Of course it hadn’t been the Doctor. It couldn’t have been. Still, the similarity between her guardian angel and the Doctor was either very striking, or her mind had played a trick on her to protect her. The thing was she couldn’t put his face or his voice out of her mind, and she could still feel his touch and the weight of his jacket on her. It must have been a trick of her mind. Why would her second Doctor wear a leather jacket?

The next day, when she was released from the infirmary, she was given a bag with her belongings. Mickey had brought fresh clothes from the house. The ones she’d worn on her mission were ruined. Rose wondered why they returned them to her anyway, but she knew that was standard procedure because they didn’t go through their people’s belongings. Clutching the plastic bag and a small hold-all, she climbed into the dark SUV in which Mickey was taking her to her rented house.

It had turned out quite early in their work on the dimension cannon that Glasgow and the surrounding area were their best shot at making the jumps work because there was something about the walls between the universes there that made jumping easier. It was a bit like Dålig Ulv Stranden, but the beach had lost its special qualities after the Doctor had ended the projection and sealed the wall off. So Glasgow it was.

Torchwood had always had a small branch there, more out of courtesy to the original Torchwood House further up in the Highlands than out of any real necessity. They had hired an empty warehouse in the harbour for their experiments, and houses for themselves in town. They lived close enough together to be there for each other when necessary, but there was enough distance to be by themselves. Jake and Mickey shared a house, of course, while Rose had chosen her own place.

Over time, Glasgow had become more of a home to her than she’d cared to admit, and she’d spent more time there than down in London with her family. It looked like those days were coming to an end. There wasn’t anything left for her there, although she thought that the Glasgow branch would remain important. As a side product of their research, the city had turned out to be her original universe’s counterpart to Cardiff, sitting on a rift that attracted all kinds of alien bits.

Mickey was reluctant to leave her alone when he dropped her off at her house. He had filled her fridge, but urged her to call Jake and him if she needed anything or fancied a night out in their favourite pub.

The house felt empty to her. It was too big for her, but she needed the space. She’d rented a two-bedroom flat when they’d first arrived here, but she’d soon felt caged in, used as she’d been to the vastness of the TARDIS. After a couple of weeks of house-hunting she’d found a nice Victorian semi in a quiet neighbourhood, not far from Mickey and Jake’s. The space had given her room to breathe, even though she didn’t need all the rooms. Most of them were sparsely furnished, partly because she wasn’t intending to stay very long and partly because she didn’t want to get too attached to her new place. She’d refused to call it home.

When she dropped her keys into the bowl on the table in the hall she realised that this was home now. She slid down the door and sat on the hardwood floor. She had another fortnight’s leave to fully recover, and she’d spend part of it making this house her home. The other week she wanted to spend in London with her family.

Rose smiled. She had already made an important decision – staying in Glasgow – without having to think much about it. Although London was her home, Glasgow offered her the anonymity she needed to do her work. She’d ask Pete for a permanent position with Torchwood up here. Also, despite the failure of the dimension cannon, the city wouldn’t remind her as much of the Doctor as London.

Rose climbed to her feet, grabbed the two bags and went upstairs to her bedroom, a cool, white room. She’d start redecorating here; when she’d moved in she’d left the walls white to remind her of the Lever Room. Knowing that it was only a white wall separating her from the Doctor had kept her spirits up. But she didn’t want white any more. A mellow grey with lots of lighting to make the room homey would do perfectly from now on.

As she unpacked the plastic bag, she found the leather jacket with which the stranger had covered her up. It was brown and not at all like her first Doctor’s. She needed, wanted, to return the jacket to its owner and thank him for helping her. Thankfully, the staff at Torchwood had had the lining of the jacket cleaned – there must have been blood stains from her injuries on it.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the small plastic bag pinned to the label of the jacket with the contents of the pockets. She’d spotted a business card and she gingerly fished it out. It was a long shot – maybe it was someone else’s business card. The other items didn’t interest her; they were none of her business.

The card read David Tiler, Photographer, and carried a local address.

Tiler.

Rose chuckled. Maybe that was her guy.

She fished her phone out of her bag and dialled the number, taking a deep breath as the call connected.

“Hello?”

Rose’s heart skipped a beat. It was him. She’d recognise his voice anywhere, instantly. It had that soft, Scottish brogue she’d noticed through her pain-induced daze, but it was him. Was it just his voice, she wondered, or did he actually look like the Doctor? Was that why she had thought the Doctor had been with her?

“Um, hi, this is Rose Tyler,” she said, her voice a bit shaky.

There was a brief pause. “Yeah?” His voice didn’t sound very steady either. Was she interrupting something?

“I’m not... my name really is Tyler,” she said. “I... I was in an accident a couple of weeks ago, and... I believe you are the man who helped me.”

“Oh. Rose?” he said, taking a deep breath. “How... how are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” Rose said. “I wanted to thank you for staying with me. And I’ve still got your jacket. That’s why I have your number. I found your business card. I hope you aren’t mad with me, but I had to find you.” She was rambling, and held her breath.

“No, no, that’s all right,” David Tiler said.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“Um... not really, no,” he replied.

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet for lunch,” Rose said. “So I can return your jacket.”

“Today?” There was a hopeful quality to his voice.

“If you’re not busy, yes, why not?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’d... I’d like that.”

They arranged for a time and place to meet, then Rose disconnected the call, gazing at her phone in a daze. That had been easy.

-:-

Rose arrived early at the small restaurant. She was at a disadvantage since she had no idea what he looked like. Although, if she went by his voice... Rose shook her head and told herself not to expect the spitting image of the Doctor to turn up. Her mind may well have been playing tricks on her, suggesting a similarity just because of the timbre of his voice in order to make her stay calm. When David Tiler had found her she’d been in excruciating pain; but now she’d heard him on the phone and he did sound like the Doctor. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

She dropped her hand onto the brown leather jacket draped over the bench beside her and let her thumb glide over the soft leather. It was a well-loved jacket, and she’d have been distraught if she hadn’t found its owner.

When Rose looked up again she saw a man standing just inside the door, waiting to be seated. He was wearing a dark leather jacket and held a grey helmet by the chin strap. He wasn’t looking her way, but when he raised his hand to run his hand through his dishevelled hair she froze. The gesture was so very familiar. It couldn’t be.

She willed him to turn around, but he only did so when the waitress approached him. He was a bit more wide-eyed than the Doctor, and he lacked the confidence of nearly a millennium of experience, but other than that he was the Doctor’s doppelgänger. He was wearing blue denims and a striped shirt, and although he was slim he wasn’t as thin as the Time Lord had been.

Rose held her breath as the waitress picked up a menu and led him through the maze of chairs, tables and patrons to her. She was glad that her plan had worked out; it wouldn’t have done at all for her to be surprised by his appearance. Now, at least, she had some time to compose herself.

Still, she felt the beginnings of a wide grin tug at the corners of her mouth. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him, she tried to remind herself. He was a stranger who had helped her, nothing more. He probably had nothing in common with the love of her life at all. He was a photographer, and he had a motorbike. Different enough.

Rose offered her hand before he sat, and said hello. From the corner of her eye she noticed the knowing grin of the waitress. Just what she had needed. She hoped that they would be left alone and that their meeting wouldn’t be discussed in the relevant rags the next day. Her private life was, for some reason, immensely interesting to others, although she knew the exact opposite to be the case. She didn’t really have a life outside Torchwood.

“Hello,” he said, casting the waitress a curious glance as he took the menu from her. Her face darkened and she disappeared. He took off his jacket and put it next to himself on the bench, where he’d already deposited the helmet.

“Thank you for coming,” Rose said. “I’ve got your jacket here.” She dropped her hand onto the soft leather again. For some strange reason, she’d have loved to keep the jacket.

David Tiler cast a glance at the jacket before he sat down. “That’s very kind of you. I’ve missed it. I didn’t think I’d get it back.”

“I’d hoped to be able to find you,” Rose said.

“What was that about?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the waitress.

Rose blushed. “Well, she appears to find it interesting with whom I have lunch.”

“Oh,” he said, clearly not understanding. Obviously, he had no idea who she was, which meant two things. First, that he would act naturally around her, and second that he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrity gossip – although Rose hated her name and the word celebrity being used in the same sentence. “Well, how... how are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. It struck her then how sad his beautiful brown eyes were. Not even the Doctor’s sadness, with its fleeting, mercurial mood shifts, was as heart-breaking as the all-encompassing sadness in this man’s eyes. She wondered what his story was. Had he lost someone?

“You seemed... What happened that night?” he blurted, putting the menu down.

“It’s... complicated,” Rose began. It was touching that he cared about her well-being, but he was also a stranger. Although Torchwood was not a secret organisation they preferred to give away as little information as possible; usually, they were regarded as an organisation attached to the police. “I was working a case.”

His face darkened and she could see how he withdrew from her. The sadness became more pronounced, but she couldn’t fail to notice the fury that infused it. “So you’re with the police?” he asked tunelessly. He propped his elbows on the table and folded his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. The hardness around his jaw made her lean a fraction back.

“Not really, no,” Rose said, sensing that mentioning the police had caused this change of demeanour in him. What had happened to him? “I’m not a policewoman, if that’s what...”

He drew in a shuddering breath and attempted a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Rose returned. “I was investigating something, and... this something went horribly wrong.”

“But there wasn’t an explosion, was there?” he asked. “I... I couldn’t see one. There was that thunderclap, though, and it wasn’t... it wasn’t a thunderstorm, right? It was too cold for that.”

“No,” Rose said.

He sighed. “But your injuries... I... it’s amazing that you’re here now.”

David was very observant and very clever. Rose wondered how long she could get away with the vague answers she’d been giving him without insulting his intelligence. “I was lucky. You found me and called the ambulance.”

“It wasn’t the ambulance, though, was it?” he said.

Rose bit her lip. “It was a specialist ambulance. They know how to deal with injuries like mine. It’s very new, and they’re still doing test runs.”

He dropped his hands onto his lap. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

An awkward silence followed during which they studied their menus. When the waitress appeared they placed their order, and the silence between them was mollified by the waitress’ inquisitive stare.

“What is it with that woman?” David Tiler asked, leaning towards Rose again. The sadness was still noticeable in his eyes, but it wasn’t as dominant any more. Rose relaxed.

She chuckled. She didn’t want to spoil things by telling him who she was. “Beats me.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and placed a basket of bread between them. “Here you go, Miss Tyler,” she said, smiling, as if to apologise, but Rose knew that the woman was, for some reason, addressing her by her name as though they were old acquaintances. She hated it when people did that. She could only hope that no one was going to ask her for her autograph, but that hope was crushed when a teenaged girl approached them, a notebook and pen at the ready.

He leaned back and watched in wonder as Rose signed the girl’s notebook. The girl looked at him with interest as well, and the expression of surprise in his face was priceless.

“Sorry about that,” Rose said as the girl disappeared back to her own table where she showed off her prize.

“Who are you?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“No one,” Rose said. “Google me when you get home, but believe me, I’m not nearly half as interesting as they make me out to be. It’s got its perks, though. Charity work is a lot easier when you have a recognisable name.”

“My name’s Tiler too,” he pointed out.

“And you’re a very good photographer,” Rose said. “I’ve looked at your work.”

He coloured a little. “Yeah, well.”

“David,” she said, reaching out for him but stopping short and picking a piece of bread from the basket. The gesture was entirely too intimate, particularly now that she knew they had an audience.

“It’s Dave, actually,” he said.

“I’m just Rose, yeah? I’m here to give you back your jacket and say thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

He looked up, a smile playing about his lips. “I...,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I... I didn’t mean to... life’s been crazy the past few months.” A shadow flitted over his face, but he remained resolute. “Sometimes things seem a bit too much. Or surreal.”

Rose stared at him.

“I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“Um... well. Let’s just say that I know the feeling,” Rose offered. She was quite sure that his life had been turned upside down recently, just like hers. They certainly had that in common.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he whispered, sipping his water.

“Who did you lose?” Rose asked. It was a long shot and she was being bold, but she also sensed that if anything, Dave needed someone to listen to him.

“My wife. We... we weren’t married, but...” he stopped himself, surprised that he had opened up to her. “I think of her as my wife.” He said it softly, as if there was something more to it, but she didn’t say anything. She’d probably done enough damage already.

Rose bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“She was in a road accident, just like... like you, I suppose, and... well. She was killed instantly,” he said.

“Oh,” Rose said. “So when you found me...”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes beginning to well up. He looked away in attempt to compose himself.

“Thank you, Dave,” Rose said softly. What he had done for her took on a whole new meaning. Finding her in the street must have made memories resurface. She wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how, to say nothing of the fact that they barely knew each other.

They fell silent once more and were glad when the waitress appeared with their food. They moved on to light conversation after she’d disappeared, talking about harmless things until his phone rang and he rushed back to his studio to sort out a minor crisis.

Rose ordered coffee and paid. The waitress cast her a smug glance, which she ignored. The sun had come out as she stepped outside and took a deep breath. That was that. The jacket was returned, her guardian angel thanked.

Only later did it occur to her that not once while they’d talked she’d thought of him as the spitting image of the Doctor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave Tiler is a photographer and a father of five. Rose Tyler is the Vitex heiress by day and a Torchwood agent by night. One thing they have in common is the loss of the love of their life. When Dave helps an injured Rose, they have no idea that this chance encounter will change their lives forever.

Dave shrugged into his brown leather jacket before he climbed on his bike outside the restaurant. Tanya’s call had come at the best, and worst, possible of times. While he’d had so many questions for Rose, questions that had been bugging him since that night, he had also felt quite out of his depth once he had realised that Rose Tyler was a famous person. He shouldn’t feel intimidated by that fact alone, but there was something about her that warranted being a little nervous in her presence. Even if the girl hadn’t asked for her autograph and the waitress had just done her job discreetly, Dave would have felt awkward around her. Or maybe awkward wasn’t the right word. In awe was more like it, in awe and at the same time eager to get to know her better. Although they had spoken only briefly, he thought that she was one of the most fascinating people he had ever met. Her light brown eyes in particular had captivated him. They’d held wisdom far beyond her years and they were also the saddest eyes he had ever seen. They had made him want to get know her better. What was her story?

Instead, they had talked about him, about losing Rita. She was the first outsider he had confided in, something that he had, up till then, tried to avoid because he didn’t want people’s pity any more. Sometimes, they smothered him with it, which made things worse for him than if they’d just left him alone. Few people knew how to react to the news, often filling the awkwardness they felt with idle, almost hollow, chatter.

Rose, however, seemed to truly understand him. The sadness in her eyes had told him that she knew what loss meant, and instead of subjecting him to platitudes, she had made him talk. It had felt good, he realised, as he pulled into the dirt alley beside the building that housed his studio. He avoided, as always, the huge puddle that had gathered there, and put down his feet firmly on the uneven ground before he took off his helmet. He hadn’t felt this good in ages. What, he wondered, was it about Rose that made him open up to her like that? He hadn’t told her much, but it had been enough for him to breathe a little more easily.

He hurried to the studio, putting thoughts of Rose off for the moment, to see what the crisis was. He was heartily sick of them, particularly after the fiasco over the Street Museum brochure and Ewan’s ankle.

“Tanya?” he called as he turned the corner, yanking down the zip of his jacket. It felt so good to have it back. Had he thanked Rose properly for returning it? “Tanya!? What’s up?”

Tanya was curled up on one of the red sofas, a blanket draped over her. She looked feverish and pale. “I think Evie gave me the chicken pox.”

“What?” he asked, torn between being amused and confused. “But you had them as a child.”

She shrugged and looked up at him sheepishly as she realised that he didn’t believe she had chicken pox.

Dave sighed and crouched beside the sofa, feeling her head. It was hot and clammy. “I can’t take you home, I haven’t got the car,” he said. “What about Mum, can’t you call her?”

“She won’t be able to make it for another hour,” Tanya said in that little-girl voice he didn’t like at all. She had copied that from Michelle, who only ever used it when she wanted to manipulate him.

“Well, I can’t drive you. But I can make you a cup of tea, eh?”

Tanya pouted.

He stood and busied himself with the kettle and mugs. While he was at it he might as well make himself a cuppa.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” Tanya said.

“You didn’t,” he lied, unwilling to give her that satisfaction. “Was there anything important while I was out?”

“Several new bookings came in,” Tanya volunteered after a while. “I’ve put them on the desktop but I haven’t confirmed them yet.”

“Thank you,” Dave said, pouring the hot water over the teabags. “Anything interesting?” He had to admit that in the past couple of weeks he had let things slide, only taking bookings that interested him or that he felt ready to handle. He knew, however, that this couldn’t go on unless he wanted to risk running out of funds. The car needed to be serviced, which would put a dent in his account, and he and Rita had planned to redecorate the kitchen. Also, he was thinking of renting a small cottage for the summer holidays to get away from things for a while.

“Most of them are,” Tanya said. “Sean Sansom called; he asked if you were interested in taking over an assignment for him. It’s some charity event, and he can’t go.”

“Snapping pics of the rich and beautiful?” Dave asked. He always felt out of place at events like that, a bit like an intruder even though he was meant to be there and people knew he was around taking photos. Pictures like that were often very interesting because the subject was unguarded, and therein lay the problem. He was always very careful to make his subjects feel comfortable, but he wouldn’t have time for that at the event. Granted, the rich and beautiful were used to that, but he wasn’t. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Dad. It’ll be fun. Sean told me that most of the rich and beautiful would be posing for the pictures anyway,” Tanya said. “They pay handsomely.”

“For a charity event?” Dave asked, incredulous.

“Well,” Tanya said, “it is also about publicity for those people, don’t you think?”

Dave was amazed at his daughter’s scheming little ways once more. Also, the thought of all those celebrities gathering in one place seemed to excite her enough to forget about her chicken pox for a while. If it was, indeed, chicken pox, and not some form of mild food poisoning. She’d managed to give herself that several times before. Sometimes he wondered how she’d managed to keep Samuel safe; it was probably his capricious eating habits, or Michelle, or a combination of the two.

“And that makes it all right?”he asked.

Tanya shrugged.

“Oh well,” Dave sighed, sitting down at his computer to send an email to Sean. He owed him a favour — which Tanya didn’t know — and it couldn’t hurt to go on a photo safari; he hadn’t done that in a long time. His children had developed a sense for his being on the prowl with his camera, even if it was the small one in his phone.

“Can you take a snapshot of Rufus Horwood if he’s there?” Tanya asked, her eyes lighting up.

Dave stared at her. “You actually like him?” he asked in disbelief. Rufus Horwood was a young actor who was famous for his role as an executioner in a TV series set in the 1950s. He was good-looking in an unconventional way, but Dave thought he was quite empty-headed and not grand actor material.

Tanya shrugged. “Yeah.”

Dave concentrated on the computer screen. Heaven help him if Lucy developed a serious crush on a celebrity; so far, they’d been spared that. Lucy was very down-to-earth with little need for the idols teenagers usually had. Her worries were entirely different, like who her real father was, and where she was left without her mother. Dave rubbed his hands over his face. A quick sideways glance told him that Tanya was either contemplating the curtain of fairy lights on the wall or had dozed off.

He brought up the browser and searched for Rose Tyler to learn more about her, just like she’d suggested; he recalled, however, her warning to take the information with a grain of salt. She hadn’t struck him as the vain type, or playing coy; Rose had seemed embarrassed, really, by the attention she had received.

The search yielded reams of sites. Dave sat back in his chair, brushing his palm over his mouth. He reached for his cup of tea and took a fortifying sip. Then he continued his research.

Rose Tyler was the daughter of Peter Alan Tyler of Vitex fame. Personally, Dave didn’t like the Vitex drinks, and neither had Rita, who had deemed them too sugary (she was right, of course, they were disgustingly sweet). Rose hadn’t been heard of before she’d become the débutante of the year, which surprised Dave. Either Peter Tyler was a very powerful man to have achieved to have been able to keep her hidden, or Rose’s biography was really interesting. Not that he bothered with gossip like that, of course. He just wondered how the Tylers had managed to keep their daughter a secret for such a long time. Rose didn’t seem to work, but she was very committed to charity, just like her mother, Jackie, who until a few years ago had been a very public persona only to withdraw after Battle against the Cybermen.

The Tylers seemed to be very interesting, but what Dave cared most about was the real Rose, the Rose he had met for lunch. The Rose whom he had found in the street, and the Rose who had returned his jacket to him and who had thanked him for being there for her. The Rose who had not answered all of his questions despite the fact that she seemed a very honest and trustworthy person.

Dave was confused.

He clicked on the photo search, and instantly the screen filled with thumbnails of photos of Rose. For a moment, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a peeping tom as he scanned the miniature photos. There were stunningly beautiful portrait shoots of her, most of them done for magazines, but there also were a few illegal shots of Rose with her hair tied back in a sloppy pony tail, wearing jeans and robust outdoor clothing and shoes suitable for long walks and running. She looked vivacious and animated in those unguarded snapshots; in the studio shoots she had that melancholy air about her, and in some of them her sadness was palpable.

Dave wondered if other people had picked up on that. Her official website didn’t yield much personal information aside from the usual biographical data. He checked her event calendar and found that she was among the guests at the charity event he was doing for Sean the next night. And then he remembered something. Wasn’t 27 April her birthday?

After a quick check on the biographical part of her website, he leaned back in his chair. It was indeed her birthday, but her site didn’t say how old she was. Rose was young, judging by her looks, but her eyes had told him otherwise. What was it about her, he wondered again.

-:-

He arrived at the charity event ahead of time to discuss his job with the organisers. They gave him a guest list, complete with notes on how best to deal with some of the more petulant ones. Although he shook his head in his thoughts, he didn’t let on. It wasn’t his place, and if it weren’t for Sean, he wouldn’t even be here. He did not normally do celebrity photography. The organisers also told him that he’d only have to stay for the official part of the event; he could leave as soon as the informal part began. It was a two-hour job, and Dave was quite glad that Robin and Anna wouldn’t need to babysit too late. Grateful as he was for them helping out, he knew he needed to become more organised to master life with the children and without Rita. It was reassuring to know that he had people he could turn to when he needed to, but he didn’t want to have to rely so heavily on them.

Rose was indeed on the guest list. It surprised him because it was her birthday, and because she was probably still recovering from her accident. There was no plus one next to her name. She’d probably stay for as long as etiquette dictated, or perhaps she could use her health as an excuse to escape early.

Why was he thinking about her? They were both there to do a job; it was work and not a social meeting. Besides, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to talk to her at all. Not that it mattered, because despite all the questions he had, he couldn’t think of anything to say to her. Dave realised that he wanted to be with her but not talk to her.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. If anyone heard his thoughts, he’d say “Yeah, right, so do I, pal,” and make some obscene gesture. It wasn’t like that. He just wanted to get to know her, and maybe even see what it would be like to share a silent moment with her. Just that, perfectly innocent. That, and maybe sharing a drink of some sort. Without alcohol, in his case, because he had to drive himself home.

Dave got his camera out and started to get ready. He took a few test shots of willing wait staff to check the lighting. There was a shy student whom he captured quite beautifully. The girl was stunned, and he promised to send the photo to her via email. She smiled gratefully at him, and he thought it was good to have an ally on this job. Tanya, he knew, would have been completely useless in a setting like this. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know too much about the people whose pictures he was going to take either.

Eventually, the ceremony started and he moved towards the stage to capture the event. Then he moved around the floor to take photos of the guests. He made sure that his name tag with credentials was clearly visible at all times, and he made a point of silently seeking permission of his subjects before taking the pictures and thanking them by nodding and smiling at them.

And then there was Rose.

“Oh. Hello,” she said, smiling. It was a guarded smile, nothing at all like the one from the previous day.

“Hello,” he said, biting his tongue as her name threatened to slip out. He smiled at her and lifted his camera a bit. “May I?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling for the camera. It was a radiant smile, good enough for the event, but he saw that her heart wasn’t in it. The sadness and loss clung to her like a heavy cloak, and he wondered if there was one like that around his shoulders too. Did it take a kindred soul to recognise it, he wondered, or was it clearly visible to anyone who cared to look?

He took a series of photos of her and thanked her.

He moved on to find Rufus Horwood, and before he knew it, he had lost sight of Rose.

-:-

He didn’t see her again until after his work was done. Not quite ready to go home yet, he moved outside onto the rooftop garden. It was beautifully illuminated by fairy lights and big candles in lanterns. The leaves of the potted plants were moving gently in the light breeze, and as he stepped towards the balustrade, he took in the lights of the city around them, but his eyes came to rest on their reflection on the water.

“’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?”

It was Rose. She joined him at the balustrade, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. It had been a mild April, but the evening was cold. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“’s that how every other meeting of ours will go? You draping your jacket over me?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. The tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, and he had a hard time concentrating on her words. This was pure Rose, he realised. She was herself with him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

Rose laughed.

He would have loved to capture that moment in pixels, but he didn’t dare. They hardly knew each other. It wasn’t proper. Besides, this was private.

“Thank you, Dave.”

They were silent for a while. The breeze was tugging at her carefully coiffed hair, working a few strands loose that played about her face. They softened the line of her jaw a bit, and her lips seemed less tense as well. Again, the colour of her eyes was hard to tell in the tricky but gorgeous light. She licked her lips and brushed a lock of hair back.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said eventually, as if she’d only just arrived.

“Working,” he said, pointing at his camera.

“Me too,” she said, gesturing at her clothes. She was wearing a powder-blue dress that looked like water rippling around her. Although she seemed to be a woman with all the right curves, he thought that she was thinner than she ought to be. Was it because of the loss she’d suffered?

“I’m off now, though,” he said. “I just couldn’t resist coming up here. For the view.”

“I came here for the peace and quiet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? You were here before me.”

They were quiet again for a while. Dave raised his camera, adjusted a couple of settings and mounted it on a small tripod he’d brought. “Sorry, I can’t resist.”

“Can I have a look?” Rose asked.

He stepped aside so she could see the display. She was pulling the jacket closer about her as she did, and the lock of hair she’d tugged back came free. Dave was very tempted to brush it back for her.

“Beautiful,” Rose said.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

She stepped aside so he could take the photo.

“Happy Birthday, Rose,” he said as they waited for the exposure time to pass by.

“Thank you. So you did look me up on the internet.”

“I couldn’t resist. And I only checked your official site,” he hurried to say.

Rose laughed. “’s okay.”

Her phone chirped, and she excused herself. Dave watched her put some distance between them, and he returned his attention to the camera to give her some privacy.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” Rose said. “Mickey needs my help.”

Dave was surprised that she apologised in the first place. It wasn’t like they were on a date. Besides, Tanya had pulled the same stunt on him the previous day.

“It was nice to see you again,” he said, picking up his camera.

Rose stared at him.

“Get out your phone,” she said.

“What?”

“Your phone. I’ve got your number, but you haven’t got mine. I’d like to see some of the photos you’ve taken of me tonight,” she said.

“Sure.” He dug out his phone and noted down her number. His heart was racing. Rose Tyler was actually giving him her phone number. Numbers. In case she wasn’t in.

“I’m looking forward to seeing them,” she said, taking off his jacket and handing it back to him.

“Aye,” he said, stunned.

“Bye, Dave,” she said, laying a hand on his wrist.

“Bye.”

Then she was gone.


	4. The Day I Met You 4/?

The photos Dave had taken at the charity event appeared in several glossy fashion and gossip magazines. Thankfully, there was only one of her in each of them she’d bought, and she had to admit that, for once, it was a good picture of her. He had caught her unawares, in conversation with someone who had been cut out of the photo, laughing at what the other person was saying. She looked younger in that photo than when she looked at herself in the mirror. The dress she had worn that night was described as conservative in the caption, but she had chosen it for exactly that reason. It covered her scars up nicely, and this was what she was going to look like at future events. She’d never give the public reason to discuss her scars or their provenance. And she certainly wasn’t going to have them removed. She’d have them always, as a reminder of what she had lost, of how far she could go — too far, it had turned out. The Torchwood doctors had nearly lost her twice after she’d been taken to the infirmary. Although she’d never felt truly alive since she fell though the void – and she knew she was considered dead in her original universe – she’d never wished she were dead. There was always something to live for, something to enjoy like having her mother, Pete, and her new little brother to share things with.

In a way, she was glad that the days of the dimension cannon were over. Jumping had always been risky and as time wore on, and universe after universe turned out to be Doctor-less, Rose had begun to think that the walls between universes really were irrevocably sealed. He’d once said „Never say never,“ and that had kept her going for a long time. He hadn’t appeared as a hologram on the beach for nothing. She knew that if he could, he’d have turned up in person — he had burnt up a sun just to see her.

She returned her attention to the photo in the magazine. Dave must have taken more than just the one, of that she was sure, and although she has asked him to show them to her he hadn’t yet called. Had he forgotten about her, she wondered? It was a bit of a disappointment because they had seemed to bond on the rooftop garden, both of them wanting away from the crowd and the attention for a while.

Rose put down the magazine and finished her tea. She had yet to pack for her trip down to London; there was plenty of time left before she had to catch the train to Edinburgh, from where she’d travel to London by sleeper. She needed to get packed early enough to be able to make a run to the chemist for anything she might be running low on. That way she could go straight to the house in London instead of having to stop off at Boots on the way from the train station. It were usually the essential items she ran out of and only realised so at the very last moment.

When she’d finished packing she was pleased to find that she didn’t need to go buy anything, except perhaps some snacks. Rose sat back on her heels after she had pulled the zip of her wheeled suitcase shut and had secured it with a small padlock. Pushing a few loose strands of hair back she looked at the austere white wall that provided a stark contrast to the dark wooden headboard. It was a lovely, sturdy old bed, one of the few luxuries she had indulged in when she’d moved in. It was made for two, but she usually only used the half by the bay window, dropping books and magazines and her netbook on the empty half before she went to sleep. The headboard and foot board were both slatted and rose to a generous height, giving her a feeling of being very small and protected in it.

For a moment Rose considered painting the wall a deep blue, but that was just as bad as white. She didn’t want any other physical reminders of her loss. Maybe a pale, silvery green would do, or even grey. But certainly not blue or pink. Her pink days were over.

Her phone chirped and she scrambled to her feet to pick it up from the bedside table. As she accepted the call, she stepped towards the bay window and sat on the arm of the chair she had put there to look at the small, slightly neglected bit of garden that had come with the house. She really needed to call in a gardener to tidy the place up a bit so she could enjoy it on warm days. She hadn’t bothered checking the caller-ID so she asked, “Hello?”

“Rose, I know you’re still off but we could need your help down here,” Mickey said, slightly out of breath.

Rose straightened a bit. “What is it? Where are you?”

“We aren’t far from you. The situation itself is under control — Sheeryan trader ship crashed in the park. The Sheeryan are all right, and we’ve got a crew in to salvage the ship,” Mickey explained.

“But?” Rose asked, furrowing her brow.

“Well, we’ve got a witness, and she’s a bit... of a wild one,” Mickey said.

“A wild one?” she asked, unable to hide a note of amusement.

“She’s a bit like you, actually,” Mickey said. “Like you used to be.”

“I was never a wild one!” Rose objected.

“Rose, please,” Mickey said, unwilling to argue with her. He was right not to; they were at an incident, and the job was more important than semantics or their shared history.

Rose sighed. Packing early had been a good idea, but she would never make it to her favourite sandwich shop now. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. But you’ll have to give me a lift to Queen Street Station later on.”

“Anything, Rose,” Mickey said. He was really desperate.

Taking the car didn’t make any sense for the short distance, and she could certainly use a bit of exercise before being cooped up in the train. Rose walked at a brisk pace to the park and found the site of the incident. The rescue team were hard at work, but she ignored them, approaching Mickey and Jake instead. They were standing at a short distance from the site, towering over a willowy girl that sat on a bench hugging her knees. She was staring daggers at the two men, her lips a determined pout. Her long, brown hair fell around her face like a glossy veil, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt over a mini-skirt and black leggings. The black ballerinas she wore nearly slipping off her feet, and there was a huge handbag next to her on the bench.

When Jake spotted Rose, he smiled in relief and met her. “Her name’s Lucy, and she saw the whole thing happen. We’ve been trying to talk to her, but she’s... Not very forthcoming.”

“Yeah, I gathered,” Rose said, wondering why they thought the sullen teenager would open up to her. Lucy wasn’t older than fifteen. As Rose approached her she noticed that the girl was very tense and close to shaking with rage. This wasn’t only about the incident.

“Lucy, this is Rose Tyler,” Jake said as they reached the bench.

The girl looked up briefly, confusion flickering over her face before she withdrew again, shrugging her narrow shoulders in acknowledgement.

“Hello, Lucy,” Rose said.

“Rose is our boss,” Mickey said.

Lucy looked up. “Yeah? So she can tell you to get lost?”

Rose bit her lip. “Yeah, I can.”

Lucy looked at her. “Do it.” Her voice was challenging, daring her, ripe with distrust. She, Rose noticed, was a girl who had a hard time trusting adults. No wonder she withdrew like this, and Mickey and Jake were bound to fail at winning her over.

“Micks, Jake, you can go now,” Rose said.

Mickey was about to protest when Jake nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, mate. Bye, Lucy.” Mickey frowned, but eventually he turned around and the two men left Rose alone with Lucy.

Lucy relaxed a little as her eyes followed their retreating backs. She let go of her knees and dropped her hands onto the narrow expanse of denim, where she soon began to play with the hem of her skirt. Rose sat down next to her, leaving enough space between them not to make her feel crowded.

“’s quite a shock, seeing a UFO for the first time,” Rose said. She didn’t see the need in beating around the bush with Lucy. Mickey was right; she recognised part of herself in Lucy, or at least she remembered what being a teenager was like.

“Yeah? What do you know about it?” Lucy mumbled.

Rose turned around in her seat to watch the rescue team. The ship was badly damaged, so the team leader decided to have a tent erected around it for privacy. There was no way they could transport the ship through town without being noticed. Besides, the techs at the Base were still figuring out where and how to set up a hangar. They were still looking for premises outside the city so they could have some sort of landing strip and work in peace and quiet.

“It’s not unidentified,” Rose said, turning back to look at Lucy. “It’s a Sheeryan trader ship that broke down as it passed Earth. Lucky it did, too, because we can help them. We’re the last stop for a while on their trading route to Simgaltu IV.”

Lucy stared at her, then frowned. “You’re making that up. I’m not a little girl, you know.”

“No, you’re not. That’s why I’m telling you,” Rose said, putting as much sincerity in her voice as possible.

“Are they going to be all right?” Lucy asked.

“The Sheeryan? Oh, I don’t know, depends if they were injured when they crash-landed,” Rose said.

“I don’t think they were. I think they were more worried about their cargo,” Lucy said, a slow smile spreading over her face. She had braces, but a lovely smile, and her green eyes lit up a bit. The tension left her shoulders.

Rose smiled softly. “I guess they were, yeah.”

“If I had talked to them,” Lucy said, “would they have understood me?”

“They’ve got a very sophisticated translation programme in their main computer,” Rose said. “What would you have said to them?”

Lucy shrugged, and for a moment Rose was afraid she’d lose her. Treating her like an adult, giving her the answers she needed seemed to work, but Lucy herself was very reluctant to answer her questions it seemed.

“It’s our job to help aliens,” Rose said. “But not many people understand them as well as we do. Most of them are very friendly.”

“Are there many... aliens out there?” Lucy pronounced the word almost dismissively; to her, aliens only existed in stories, and most them weren’t even very good. But Rose could sense that the encounter had intrigued the girl, and that despite her sullen demeanour she needed to talk about the experience.

“Oh yes,” she said. “The place is crawling with them.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve met quite a few of them,” Rose said, hoping to God she wouldn’t ask her where or how. There was only so much information Rose was ready to share. Luckily, for the moment Lucy seemed satisfied.

“So they wouldn’t have hurt me if I’d talked to them?”

“Definitely not,” Rose said. “Are you all right, love?”

Lucy shrugged.

“I know it’s a bit much to take in. Here’s my card,” Rose said, fishing for one of her business cards and handing it to her. “You can always call me if you need to talk about what you’ve seen, yeah?”

“So you’re not going to give me some sort of amnesia pill?” Lucy asked, reaching out for the card like a wild animal about to snatch a treat from her hand.

Rose shook her head. “Those don’t really work. I’d like you to promise me you won’t tell anyone, though.”

“But,” Lucy began.

“Feel free to give me a ring. I’ll be happy to meet and talk to you. You can also send me an email. Whatever you prefer,” Rose said. That kind of counselling wasn’t part of her job. Usually, it was enough for witnesses to sign the Official Secrets Act, but when children and teenagers were involved, things became more complicated.

“Thanks,” Lucy said, playing with the card. It was trembling a little in her fingers.

“How about we stop off for some coffee on your way home?” Rose suggested.

“No, I... I’ll be fine. It’s just around the corner,” Lucy said.

Rose nodded. She pulled a pen and the paperwork out of her pocket, and Lucy read and signed it. At her tender age, her signature was legible, and so Rose gleaned her last name as she carefully wrote it down. Then Lucy glanced back at the site, which was now screened by the white walls of a tent. Right at that moment, her phone rang and she fished it out of her bag to answer it. The conversation was brief, but whatever news there was for Lucy, it must have been good because her eyes lit up and a shiver went through her.

“Thank you for talking to me like an adult, Miss Tyler,” Lucy said as she stood and slung her over-sized bag over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Miss Morris,” Rose said, smiling. “And it’s Rose.”

“You know,” Lucy said, about to turn away to leave, “you look...” She interrupted herself as she finally recognised her.

Rose smiled, nodding. Lucy had recognised her after all. She put her finger to her lips conspiratorially. Lucy broke into a wide smile and nodded. “Thank you, Rose.” Then she turned away and left.

Rose leaned back and took a deep breath. That had been easier than she’d thought, and she wondered if Lucy would take her up on her offer. She had a feeling, though, that she could trust the girl, even if she didn’t contact her not to talk about what she’d seen. The sad thing was that she wasn’t going to tell anyone not because of the document she’d signed, but because chances were that no one was going to believe her if she did. A girl like Lucy would die of embarrassment at that, or be beside herself with rage.

Rose assumed it would be the latter, because Lucy had seemed very angry; not with Mickey and Jake in particular, but with the world in general. Mickey had been right to call her a bit of a wild one, but Rose thought that he had done so for the right reason. He had also been right in comparing Lucy with her — Rose had spotted a bit of her own stubbornness, resiliency and curiosity in Lucy.


	5. Chapter 5

Dave slumped onto the kitchen bench after Lucy had left. Her eagerness and impatience to meet her biological father were understandable, as was her wish to read her mother’s diaries, but seeing her like this was breaking his heart. For as far as he was concerned Lucy was just as much his as the other children were, no matter what Lucy thought about him now. He understood her need to know about her roots, and he’d do everything he could to help. But he also knew that he had to make sure that it didn’t strain the rest of the family to the breaking point; he shrank away from the idea that finding her father would tear the family apart.

In a way that had already happened, and no matter how much he loved Rita, he couldn’t help thinking that it had been her fault that that had happened, and even before her death. It had been her idea to tell Lucy and the other children that he wasn’t her father. While Paul and Evie had been unconcerned by the news, Ewan had leapt at the chance to remind his older sister of that fact whenever he could. Although he did understand that Rita was both their mother, the fact that Dave wasn’t her father weakened the bond between them. Ewan identified mostly with Dave, because more often than not Rita was very strict with him, and Ewan tended to act upon how he felt people were treating him.

Dave rubbed his hands over his face. He was an only child, but even he knew the powerful bond siblings shared, and he hoped that Lucy would learn it too. He was scared of losing her as well, but he had promised to find her father, and that he had done. He just wished Anna hadn’t texted her with the news just to get her away from where she’d been. Lucy had no idea how much he trusted her not to get into trouble, whereas Anna had nothing better to do than to think the worst of her just because Rita... Well, he’d heard some ugly things that he’d rather not have learned. If Rita had wanted him to know about these things she would have told him.

Reading her diaries had been an idea born of desperation, of the wish to help Lucy and maybe understand her better. Dave was fully aware of the fact that reading her diaries, cryptic as they were, could get him into serious trouble. They could also, however, confirm ideas he had about Rita, such as that Lucy wasn’t the product of a one-night stand. Well, apparently, it had been a one-night stand, but Rita had, for some reason, wanted Stuart to know what became of his daughter — a child he had known about from the start. Rita had told him she wanted a child when she first met him. Had Lucy really been the product of a one-off, though, or had they been together several times to make sure?

Dave dropped his hands on the table and stood. He couldn’t believe he was thinking these things. They were none of his business; the most important thing was that he had found Stuart and could get him as involved in Lucy’s life as Lucy wanted, and he deemed prudent — not that there was much he could deny Lucy. She really was more his daughter than Tanya. He’d missed so much of her childhood because his breakup with Michelle had been so messy, with most of the blame for the failed marriage laid at his feet. Things had been rocky between them for a very long time until Samuel had come along. When Anna had implied that Lucy might get pregnant just like Tanya, he’d had to control himself so as not to lash out at Anna. Clearly, Tanya and Lucy were very different, and Lucy wasn’t running away — she was seeking help and support, and not in the arms of some boy who would take advantage of her vulnerability.

No, he was going to lose Lucy for another reason. He was devastated already, and he was terrified of losing Evie, Paul and Ewan as well.

Dave squeezed his eyes shut to keep his tears at bay. It was ridiculous how often he teared up these days. He was a mess, torn between his grief for Rita and his fear of being unable to hold the family together. Football practice offered some respite, but what he needed was time away from it all to get his feelings sorted. He needed someone to talk to who hadn’t known Ritasomeone to bounce ideas off of so he could get things straight in his head. Once he could be himself, he knew, he’d be able to be there for them.

He opened his laptop and typed the email to Stuart before everyone got back from the match.

-:-

Lucy returned from the shops with the biscuits — his favourite ones, which she placed on the kitchen table with an almost shy smile — and the copy of one of the magazines that had bought his photos of the charity event. He had only sold a select few, keeping the more personal shots of Rose to himself. He had caught her unguarded a couple of times, and he had spent quite a while staring at the photos, and had wondered about the sadness and resignedness she had worn about her like a heavy coat. The public didn’t need to see these, and he wanted to fulfil his promise to call to give them to her to deal with them at her own discretion.

“You met Rose Tyler?” Lucy asked, browsing the magazine. Of all the people in attendance that night, and considering who Lucy was interested in, it was curious that she should ask him about Rose. He ripped open the bag of biscuits, exploding them all over the place. Lucy sighed, gathering as many as she could and placing them on the plate he had gotten out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, among others,” he said. Lucy usually didn’t show much interest in his work.

“It’s a really good photo of her,” she said, pushing the magazine towards him. He pulled it close, whirling it around to get a better look at it. It wasn’t the shot he’d have chosen, but it was all right.

“Thank you,” he said.

“What’s she like?” Lucy asked, nibbling at the last biscuit she found on the far edge of the table.

Dave shrugged. “She’s nice, I suppose. I haven’t really talked to her much.” It wasn’t even a lie, but he didn’t want Lucy to know about Rose. It would only complicate things unnecessarily and hurt the kids on top of that. They didn’t need to _know_ he cried about Rita when they weren’t looking; it was enough that they wondered about it. He needed to be strong for them, to keep the family together. “Why are you asking?” Of all the people he’d seen that night, Rose seemed the least obvious choice for Lucy to talk about.

Lucy shrugged. “Dunno. She looks a bit lost, don’t you think?”

“Lost?” he repeated, crumpling up the bag and sitting down to have a closer look at the photo. Lost was not an adjective that had sprung to mind when he’d first looked at it, but now that Lucy had mentioned it he had to admit that she was right.

“Yeah, she looks like she wants to be anywhere else but there. Was it that awful, Dad?”

For a moment he was thrown by the fact that she’d called him dad, then he was just very happy that she had. “No, no, it wasn’t, but who knows? She probably has to attend this kind of thing quite often, so I can imagine it’s a bit boring for her.” He had a fairly good idea, though, as to the real reason. Rose hadn’t recovered fully from her injuries yet, and when she had received the call on the roof garden it had seemed more than welcome. Maybe it had been a call she’d expected, a call that would give her the opportunity to flee.

Lucy nodded thoughtfully and pulled the magazine back towards her.

“Lucy, are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said lightly, closing the magazine and picking it up. “I’ll go practise.”

Dave squeezed the biscuit bag into a small ball in his hands and nodded. The violin offered Lucy some respite from the mess her life had suddenly become. She left, and a couple of minutes later her could hear her play, noting, wistfully, that she had made a lot of progress in the past weeks. If only Rita could still accompany her on the piano. They shared a talent for music the others didn’t, obviously having gotten his lack of musical talent from him — although Rita had been adamant that he had a nice singing voice, he had always thought that she had only been humouring him. his talent clearly lay in visual arts, and Evie seemed to be taking after him.

-:-

The notion that Rose looked lost in the photos he’d taken of her persisted. As he sat at the kitchen table after supper, he drew up the photos on his laptop to look at them. The children were all busy for once, so he felt he might as well indulge his thoughts a little. He hadn’t yet called Rose about the photos because he never seemed to have a quiet enough moment to do so. Hopefully she didn’t think he’d forgotten or even dismissed her.

As soon as he sat down with a cup of coffee, Lucy joined him with her magazine. Sighing inwardly, he focused his attention on the screen and pretended to be working. He knew, of course, why Lucy sought him out. It was the hope that there might be news from Stuart. Another pang of fear and regret shot through him.

He enlarged his favourite shot of Rose and looked at her. Lucy was right. There was definitely an air of being lost around Rose, along with the sadness he’d observed. The emotions made him want to reach out for her and to ask her what was bothering her. He propped his chin on his hand. Him caring for her seemed to define their relationship, if that was what you could call it at that early stage — provided, of course, they were at a stage of something at all. Was his attraction to her the same as what had drawn him to Rita? Was he feeling the need to protect or care for her? He’d been drawn to Rita by her independence and once she realized he didn’t intend to try to tie her down, she allowed herself to get close to him, but that need for freedom had confounded him on more than one occasion — she’d told him early on that she was adopted, and instead of seeking out close relationships as some kind of an ersatz family, she had cultivated her need for independence. The only exception to that had been Lucy. They had been so very close that sometimes they seemed more like twins than mother and daughter.

Dave wondered if Rose was the same. But her look of being lost mingled with loss. She, too, was grieving for someone dear to her, of that he was sure. Although she had also bonded with him immediately on some deep level when he had found her in the street, she had been reticent at the restaurant. Maybe that had been because of the unwanted attention she’d received, but it had baffled him. Her trust in him had been overwhelming, and now that he thought about it, she must have confused him with someone else, a doctor. Was he the person she was missing? Or was he just a friend she’d needed to see as she lay, injured, on the rough tarmac, covered against the drizzle by his leather jacket?

He drew up another photo of her, the first one he’d taken, and in that picture, she looked at him wide-eyed. It was almost as if she recognised him. That maybe didn’t cover it. She didn’t only recognise him. She saw someone in him she hadn’t expected to see, someone very close to her. He opened the next photo, taken only a heartbeat after the first one. Pure joy played about the corners of her mouth and made her eyes shine. It was the kind of joy, he thought, of seeing the man she loved. It was directed at him; she was looking straight at him.

Dave frowned and sat back. She definitely had mixed him up with someone else. He drew up the next picture in the series and saw realisation fall over her radiant smile like a shadow. She knew that he wasn’t the man she’d been thinking of. His heart broke, and he rubbed his hand over his mouth.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Lucy,” he said, stifling a sigh.

“Has he replied yet?”

“No, not yet,” he said, standing.

Lucy huffed and slumped back in her chair.

-:-

“I’m going to see him tomorrow,” Dave said, shutting down his email program. He couldn’t bear to look Lucy in the eye, which held a glint. He was afraid of giving his feelings away, of embarrassing both of them and making her hate him even more.

When he looked up, however, Lucy looked stunned. “Really,” she said flatly.

“Yeah,” he said, closing his laptop. How could she think he’d not be serious on something like that.

“But I can’t come with you.”

“No, not this time,” he replied.

Lucy nodded, closing her magazine. He noticed, briefly, that she had been looking at the photos from the reception again. “I’ll just...” she said, standing.

After she had left, Dave sat back, exhaling. He dreaded going to Edinburgh and meeting Stuart’s family. In a way, it all sounded too good to be true. The fact that his family knew he had another daughter, the eagerness with which they had invited him to lunch... But Robin had assured him that Stuart was a decent man, and he also knew that Stuart had told him the truth at the airport. Also, if Rita hadn’t thought Stuart a good man, she’d never have chosen him. “Oh, Rita,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Maybe he needed to do this to understand her better, and, of course, to give Lucy a sense of belonging. It broke his heart that he hadn’t been able to provide that for her, but in a way he guessed that what Lucy needed right now was entirely different from what he could offer her, which was his unconditional love. He loved Lucy just as much as he did the other children, but there was no way of making her see that. She had to realise that herself.

On a whim, he fished his phone out of his pocket and called Rose. He needed to think of something else for a moment. As the call connected, he realised how fast his heart was beating.

“Hello?” Rose sounded puzzled when she picked up.

“Hi, it’s Dave.”

“Oh, hi.”

“I... um... I’m not interrupting anything?” he asked, standing to go into the kitchen. Although he could hear a film playing in the parlour, he didn’t want to be surprised or the music and voices to interfere with his conversation. He made a mental note to cut down on their TV time. They’d been watching way too many films in the past few weeks. Rita would have killed him. He smiled.

“No, it’s just... I’m on the train,” Rose said. “So don’t take it personally when the connection falters.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, biting his lip when he realised he had no business asking that.

“Edinburgh. I’m going to catch the sleeper to London,” Rose said.

“Oh, it’s just, I... I’ve got the photos from the charity event,” Dave said.

“Yeah, I’m looking at one of them right now. Nice work,” she said.

“Only as nice as the person in it,” he said, blushing. What was wrong with him? How could he be flirting with Rose?

Rose laughed. “I’m not half as interesting as everyone else at the event, but thank you anyway,” she said. “Listen, I’ll be back in about a week’s time. I’ll call you. I’d really like to see the rest of the photos. Assuming, of course, there is a rest?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Dave said, leaning against the counter.

“Are you all right, Dave?” she asked, and from her tone he could tell that she meant it.

Was he all right? “Yeah,” he drawled, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ll call you,” she said. “Probably before I come back.”

He perked up a little. “Why’s that?”

“I’m going down to see my family, and for some business,” she explained, “it’s going to be a nice but exhausting week. I could need a friendly voice.”

 _And that’s when you’re going to call_ me, Dave asked.

“If you don’t mind, that is,” Rose said. He really had asked that out loud. Dave cringed, warmth spreading in his face.

“Nope,” he said.

“You sound just like...” Rose said, interrupting herself. “Well, never mind that now. Not exactly train conversation.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Dave offered, unable to grasp what had just happened. Was she really serious about calling him? Calling _him_ of all people? What about that Mickey bloke? “Well, enjoy the capital then. Safe journey.”

Rose sounded a little disappointed. “Thanks. I’ll do my worst.”

Dave chuckled. “Bye then.”

“Bye.”

Dave disconnected the call and slid the phone back into his jeans pocket. He still felt a little flushed, and when he touched his cheek, he felt that it was very warm. What was going on with _him_?


	6. Chapter 6

Holding the tea mug securely with both hands wrapped around it, Rose sat down on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her. She still felt a little sleepy after her shower and her nap, but the exhaustion was gone, leaving in its wake a lovely feeling of contented tiredness. It felt a bit like the old days, when a shower and a stolen nap had to suffice to keep up with the Doctor’s seemingly endless stamina — until one day he had collapsed on the comfortable sofa in the library, and they had slept curled up around each other. They had never mentioned it afterwards, but still, over time, sleeping on the sofa had become a habit for them. It was this that Rose missed more than anything.

The sofa in her Glasgow flat was a close approximation of the sofa in the phone box, but napping on it by herself was never the same. Maybe, she thought from time to time — increasingly, actually, since the dimension cannon had failed — she needed to build new memories. It was easier said than done, though, because what she missed was someone with whom to make these memories.

“Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?” her Mum asked, leaning back into the cushions herself. They were sitting in the family room, the room reserved for family and friends. The French windows were wide open, allowing in the spring breeze and the scents and sounds from the garden. Jackie Tyler was balancing her mug of tea on her drawn up knee.

“Yeah, thank you,” Rose said. The train ride had been exhausting, despite the berth on the sleeper she’d booked. Even first class accommodation couldn’t drown out the monotonous beat of the wheels on the tracks, and the slight jerks as they crossed points. Some people might have found that soothing, but Rose, who was known to be able to sleep practically anywhere, had only been able to nap. Still, it had been better than wasting an entire day on the train, watching the landscape flit by and thinking about what she could be doing instead.

“What was the charity thing like?” Jackie asked. Rose knew that really she wanted to talk about the dimension cannon, and she smiled gently to herself.

“It was all right,” she said, thinking of the time she had spent with Dave in the roof garden.

“I liked your photo in the mags,” Jackie said, sipping her tea. “For once they sent a decent photographer.”

“He was nice, yeah,” Rose admitted, blowing over her tea.

“Did you talk to him?” Jackie asked, perking up a little. Rose’s prolonged singlehood worried and baffled her. She had understood, at first, that Rose was mourning for the Doctor, and she’d been understanding and supportive of the dimension cannon project. That did not allow for any romantic experiments. Although Rose knew that Jackie never believed that the project would succeed, she had never said so. It must be an instinct that mothers had, Rose told herself, coupled with the desire, despite her doubts, not to crush her hopes. Rose was very grateful to her for that; she had needed to fall on her bum in order to wake up from that dream.

“Yeah, I did,” Rose said, debating for a while whether to make this just an offhand remark, but she decided to tell her Mum everything. She needed to get the events off her chest, and Jackie would ask anyway. Maybe, she’d be able to see things a bit more clearly after rehashing them with her Mum. If anyone, she’d understand. Mickey would, she knew that, but he wasn’t the perfect person to listen to her because he was far too protective.

Jackie sipped her tea as she listened attentively.

“How bad is it?” she asked eventually. Rose set down her mug on the coffee table and turned away from Jackie, pulling up her shirt. Rose had never seen the scars herself, she didn’t need to. She could feel them, of course, the hardened, bumpy patches of skin that felt like plastic beneath her fingertips, the nerve endings dead so all she had to go by were her fingertips. She only felt Jackie’s touch because of the pressure of her fingers as she brushed her skin.

“You really want to keep them?” Jackie asked.

Rose nodded. “As a reminder of how foolish I’ve been. I should have listened to him, Mum. Instead I saw all these worlds...” Rose’s voice trailed off. She had seen many worlds indeed on her search for the Doctor, never ready to admit that he had been right, that the walls between their universes really were sealed off. For once she should have listened to him.

“What about Dave Tiler?” Jackie asked. Rose knew, of course, that she’d been talking about him when she’d asked how bad it was.

“What about him?”

“You said he looks like the Doctor,” Jackie pointed out patiently.

Rose pulled down her shirt and sat back. “He does, yeah. But he’s... different from the Doctor. Very different. And I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

Jackie’s eyes went wide. “Why ever not?”

“He’s just lost his wife.”

They were quiet for a couple of moments. It was the truth. Dave had lost his wife. He was in mourning, and if what little she knew about him was anything to go by he wouldn’t be interested in meeting anyone any time soon. He might need a friend, but he probably had those, and anyway, who’d want to be friends with her? She was moderately famous, which made her life at once complicated and easier. It certainly made having a private life more difficult; anyone following celebrity news knew that.

“You’ve mentioned him several times,” Jackie said.

Rose blushed. Had she really talked about Dave enough to give her Mum reason to believe that she was interested in him? It was not a good idea at all. Although she had managed, during lunch, to not compare him to the Doctor, she knew deep down that this similarity played a more important role than she cared to admit. Dating him for that reason would be unfair to both of them — provided, of course, he wanted to meet someone.

“Be careful, Rose,” Jackie said. “I want you to be happy, I really do, but please be careful. The Doctor broke your heart. I can’t allow some bloke, because he looks like him, to break it again.”

“He isn’t like that,” she said.

“Oh, well,” Jackie said, the resignation in her voice indicating that she’s not going to fight over it. “I love you, Rose. I’d hate to see you hurt again.”

Rose smiled, blinking back her tears. “I know, Mum. But... trust me, yeah?”

Rose hardly ever used that plea with her Mum, knowing how powerful it was. After all, this wasn’t any different from what Jackie shared with Pete. Pleading was unfair, too, because Jackie couldn’t deny her anything. However, nothing had happened so far. And Dave seemed so swept up by his grief that she didn’t think he was even remotely interested in her. Obviously, she felt much more strongly about him than he did about her. She could deal with that.

-:-

“You’ve been preaching to the converted,” Pete said, offering her a seat on the sofa in his office. The tall windows overlooked the piers and gardens of Canary Wharf and the beautiful, refurbished warehouses and converted office buildings lining the Isle of Dogs. Beyond the glittering ribbon of the Thames lay Greenwich and the Royal Palace and Gardens. It was one of the old guest houses — mansions, really — that was the Tyler’s London home.

Rose tore her eyes away from the view. It blew her away every time, probably because it was so very different from _her_ London. “Have I?” she asked.

Pete joined her with a French press and a binder. He poured each of them some coffee before settling down in the armchair facing the sofa. “There have been plans to set up a proper office in Glasgow for a while. After all, Scotland is the home of Torchwood, and the board members feel that it’s high time we honoured that. So your request is considered more like an offer, and the board are ready to establish the Glasgow office.”

“Oh,” Rose smiled. “That’s... brilliant.”

“They want you to find premises and give them an overview of what you think will be necessary to run a branch up there,” Pete said, smiling. “You can suggest staff you’d like to have up there, but of course it’s up to their personal discretion if they want to move north.”

“Can we recruit locals?” Rose asked.

Pete nodded. “The more people we have who’re familiar with the area and the people, the better.”

An excitement Rose hadn’t experienced since the idea of the dimension cannon had been first presented to her washed through her and pooled warmly in the pit of her stomach. She and her team could create something new, just like Pete had after the Battle at Canary Wharf. “Thank you,” she breathed for lack of anything better to say. “I hadn’t thought it would be that easy.”

Pete shrugged, smiling. “You did great work up there, and the rift really needs monitoring. I don’t know how we’ve managed so far. The rift didn’t appear overnight, after all.”

Rose looked at the contents of her cup. “It might have,” she said, looking up. “From what we’ve seen so far, the rift isn’t very old.”

“Is it expanding?” Pete asked.

“As far as we can tell it’s been stable for a while, but part of our work will be about exploring it,” Rose said.

“We need to make sure that it isn’t dangerous,” Pete cautioned. “What about the crashed Sheeryan ship?”

“It’s under control. We’ve only got one witness, a teenager, and she’s already signed the Official Secrets Act. I’ve given her my number in case she needs talking about it,” Rose said. Pete didn’t look very pleased when she mentioned the witness’s age.

“We’ll definitely need a counsellor up there,” Pete murmured, pulling his PDA out of the inside pocket of his jacket to jot down some notes. “And we’ll have to think about which part of official Torchwood will relocate to Glasgow.”

They sat in silence, finishing their coffee.

“You look... excited,” Pete said eventually. Rose touched her slightly pink cheeks. “I’m sorry about the dimension cannon.”

“Yeah, well,” Rose said, putting her mug down gingerly. “It was worth a try, but we didn’t know enough in the end.”

“Your Mum told me you don’t want to treat the scars,” Pete said, turning from Torchwood Director into her Dad.

Rose sat back in the sofa. “Not for the moment, no.”

Pete nodded. “Don’t give them too much power over you, you hear me?” he asked.

“I won’t.”

Pete nodded, and set down his empty cup as well. “Shall we? It’s my turn to pick up Tony from kindergarten today.”

-:-

Planning the Glasgow office was just what Rose needed. It was a fresh start, and, although it wasn’t easy to admit, it would serve to heal the wounds the failure of the dimension cannon had torn in her soul. Maybe, over time, she would be able to honour the Doctor by helping aliens and not feel heartbroken over it, or hoping that one day, a blue phone box would crash-land in her back garden. She needed to move on.

After tea with her family, she played with Tony for a while. She was going to see him and her family less frequently when she moved to Glasgow. It was the only downside to the whole enterprise. Mum and Pete had been there for her during the first months in this new universe. How Mum had coped so well was beyond her. Certainly, Pete had made it easier for her. Maybe Mum just hadn’t allowed him to make life and love more complicated. She’d have to ask her how she did it. Rose had no doubt that Pete and Mum getting together had not been all that easy, despite Tony.

“Rose!” Tony cried in exasperation. “The building has exploded! You can’t touch it!” He looked a little annoyed at her fingers trailing the jagged Lego wall where he had just torn off the roof to make the building explode.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, snatching her hand away. “Shall we get in the fire brigade then?”

“Them,” Tony said, “and Captain Jack.”

Rose rolled her eyes. Why Mum had told him about Jack was still beyond her. Tony loved the stories about him, and he had built his very own version of Torchwood. It was very lucky that there were Lego aliens in this universe, otherwise, things might have become a little tricky.

“We wouldn’t want to have him stay at home, would we?” Rose said. For some reason, however, there was no Doctor in Tony’s world. Jackie had credited Jack with most of the heroics. It was a notion, Rose knew, the Doctor would like. He’d never been one to bask in everyone’s attention and gratitude, quite on the contrary. For such a cocky man he could be very modest.

“Rose?” Tony asked, stopping in the middle of the rescue mission.

“Yeah?” she said, extending the ladder of the fire engine and pointing at the upper storey window.

“Are you going away again?” he asked.

Sometimes Tony was too clever for his own good. “Yes, but I’m going to come and see you lots. And you can come and stay with me if you want.”

Tony looked relieved. “Good.”

Had he sensed, she wondered, that until a month ago she would have done anything to leave the universe and go back to her original one? If that was the case, and he’d been scared of losing her... Rose ducked her head and studied the nubs of the Lego plate. “I’m not going to leave you, yeah?” Rose said, looking up.

“’s okay. Can we look for the alien artefact now?” he asked, looking at her with huge, light-brown eyes.

“Artefact? Sure.” Just where he picked up his words she had no idea.

-:-

“Hey. It’s Rose,” she said, drawing her legs up beneath her as she curled up in the window seat of her suite. Dusk was settling on the garden, deepening the shadows. She tugged at the thick wool of her socks and settled back against the generous pile of cushions.

“Rose! Rose,” Dave said. He sounded surprised and relieved.

“Is this a bad time?” Rose asked.

“No, it’s... I’m sitting here with Rita’s diaries and photos, and...” Dave exhaled deeply.

Rose wrapped her fingers around her left foot, rubbing it. “Oh, I...”

“No, it’s all right. I’m glad you called,” Dave said. He sounded a little brighter, but still there was that teary edge to his words. “Takes my mind off things.”

“Yeah, but... you’re grieving, Dave,” she pointed out.

“No, no, not now, I’m not. There are some things I need to sort through, and they have nothing to do with grief,” he said.

“Well, in that case, if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I’m listening.” Rose bit her lip. She was practically throwing herself at him. What was she thinking? Her offer must make him feel awkward at best. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just... a fresh set of ears helps. Sometimes.”

Dave didn’t reply immediately. “I’m not sure if I want to share these things. I don’t even know what to think myself.”

“Yeah,” Rose said.

“I’m glad you called, though. You saved me from a deep hole,” he offered.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“How’s life in London?” he asked.

“Great. It’s lovely, being with my family, making plans...”

“Plans sound good. What kind of plans?” he asked.

“Business plans. I’m to set up shop in Glasgow,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t realised how excited she was about the idea until she’d put word to them. “I’m getting the paperwork done as far as possible, and then I’ll go back to Glasgow to sort things out there.”

“I didn’t know you were a business woman,” Dave blurted. “Sorry. I’m sorry, it was a glaikit thing to say.”

“Glaikit?”

“Stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t. Who’d assume someone like me was a business person?” Rose said, laughing.

“What kind of business?” he asked.

“The Heritage Trust Fund,” Rose said without thinking. She hadn’t thought about which branch of the friendly neighbourhood business to move to Glasgow, but doing administrative work for the Heritage Trust Fund seemed like a good idea, given that most of the sites were located in the north of England and Scotland, including the home of Torchwood. The techies would move with them, or at least part of the tech department to assess the flotsam and jetsam that came through the rift locally, rather than having to send it to London.

“That sounds very interesting. If you ever need a photographer, I’d be willing to help,” Dave said, his voice trailing off at the end of the sentence.

“I’ve got your card. But I’d need to see some of your work first,” Rose said. “I’m sure I’ll like it, though. Mum loves my photo in the rags, by the way.”

“Glad to hear that.”

They were silent for a beat or two.

“I meant it, about needing a photographer. Unless that’s not high-profile enough for you,” Rose said.

“I meant it too, when I offered.”

Rose chuckled.

“I never asked,” Dave said, “how’s your back?”

Rose took a deep breath. It was one thing when her family asked, but it was another entirely when Dave did. He had seen the wounds, and he had helped her. Although he deserved nothing less but the truth, she was a bit loath to tell him, particularly over the phone. “It’s okay. The skin needs a lot of care, and sometimes it’s a bit achy, but, basically, I’m okay.”

“The photos from the roof garden turned out really well,” Dave said. “It was a lovely evening. I really enjoyed you... it. Meeting you.”

Rose’s heart beat faster. “My pleasure.”

“When are you coming back?” Dave asked softly.

“Saturday, the way things look now,” Rose said.

“Oh,” Dave said, breathing out in disappointment. “I’m out of town on Saturday. But maybe we could meet Sunday night? If that’s okay?”

“I’d love that. Shall I come to the studio?” Rose asked.

“Aye,” Dave said, and this time, his voice was filled with delight. “Thank you for calling me. You saved my life.”

“It was my pleasure. After you saved mine. Literally.”

“Let’s not... talk about that, yeah?” Dave asked. The delight was gone from his voice, and Rose kicked herself mentally. She unfolded her legs and wiggled her toes.

“I’m glad I could help you, then. Dave.”

“Thank you. Good night, Rose.”

“Good night.”

Rose hit the red button on her phone and stared at it for a long while. That hadn’t sounded as if he were not interested at all. Her pulse was still a bit faster than it ought to be, and she forced herself to calm down. Just this afternoon she had promised her Mum to be careful, had even tried to convince herself that there was nothing between her and Dave. All that seemed far away now. Too far away.

She retrieved her diary from the bedside table and jotted down the place and time of their meeting on Sunday.


	7. Chapter 7

Dave leaned back in his chair and stared at Rita’s photo on the computer screen. He hadn’t lied or exaggerated when he’d told Rose that her call had been most welcome. The thoughts he had been harbouring could be described as ugly at best, but they were there and he could do nothing about them. He picked up a notepad and the diary and jotted down some notes, then wrote down the children’s birthdays and did some Maths. They didn’t match perfectly, but everything was well within the framework of the possible. Rita had asked one child off Stuart — could she have asked for the same three more times? Would Stuart have obliged her? He must have been together with Francine by then, and he didn’t strike Dave as someone who’d betray his wife. Also, in his heart of hearts, he didn’t think that Rita would betray him.

Still, he couldn’t quite brush these thoughts off. There had been opportunity, and Rita had always kept things close to her heart; even her diaries were written in code, her intention clearly that they not be read by others, or at least not easily. He shouldn’t have read them, not even to find out about Stuart. What good had come off it? Although his notion that Rita wouldn’t have a one-night stand just to get pregnant had been confirmed — it seemed, at least, that he knew her well enough to know that. Along with that, however, came some very upsetting things, like how often had she been with Stuart before she conceived Lucy? That kind of jealousy was immature, he knew that. But it fostered a host of other nasty suspicions, including that the possibility that he wasn’t their children’s father.

Then there was her six week disappearance and the line in her diary, “Not sure about Dave”. That had been just after they’d started trying for a baby, Paul. He’d always thought that he had helped her through her need to be in control. Apparently, he had made her feel trapped by wanting to have a child with her. Throughout the two years he’d spent courting – no pursuing – Rita, he’d come to love Lucy as if she was his own, but he knew that helping to raise her was not the same as the two of them having a child together. He had been so happy when, after her return, they found out she was pregnant. Happy and very, very grateful. He had never proposed to her for fear of losing her. Instead, they had tightened the knot by having Ewan and Evie. The children bonded them more closely than any ring or slip of paper could.

He had thought, several times now over years, of adopting Lucy, but something had always kept him from talking about it to Rita. He realised that it was that old fear of caging her in too much, ridiculous though it was because of the other three. Unless, of course, the other three weren’t his either. He couldn’t very well adopt one but not the others, and how would Rita have explained herself to him if that were the case? They might have stayed together for the children’s sake, but there wouldn’t have been any love or trust left between them.

Dave propped his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair. He really had opened a Pandora’s Box in his wish to help Lucy find out who she was. And on top of that, he had made a right pillock out of himself by accusing Stuart of being with Rita when she came to tell him about Lucy — Rebecca. God, she hadn’t even told Stuart the truth; that she wouldn’t mention either him or the other children to Stuart was understandable, but that she didn’t even tell him his daughter’s real name shook Dave.

Retrieving his phone from the desk where he’d dropped it after talking to Rose, Dave scrolled down and tapped 'connect' when he found Sarah's number. His heart was racing while he waited for the call to connect.

“Dave, you sound horrible,” Sarah said after she’d picked up.

“I need to talk to you,” he blurted. “Please. It’s about Rita.”

Sarah didn’t reply at once. “Are you at the studio?” she asked.

“Aye. It won’t take long. I need to ask you something but I cannae do it on the phone.”

“I’m still at school, preparing something for tomorrow. Why don’t you come by?”

The school was a good idea. Safer than the studio, because it was neutral ground. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Drive safely, yeah?” Sarah said. “I’m worried about you.”

“Nah,” he said, rubbing his eyes viciously. “I’ll be fine. But thanks for your concern.”

-:-

He gave Sarah a bashful kiss on the cheek as he stepped into her classroom. It would take them a while to overcome the awkwardness the kiss in the bathroom had created between them, but he didn't want to lose Sarah as a friend, especially for the children's sake. She and Rita had been very close friends which was why he hoped that Sarah would be able to dispel his doubts. Part of him felt ashamed for doubting Rita, but the whole thing about Lucy felt very true to her character, and so he couldn't help wondering. It had probably all been about protecting everyone involved, and Rita had meant well by it, but still a touch of betrayal lingered like the after-taste of one pint too many on the morning after the night before.

"Hi, love," Sarah said. "How are you?"

"I've read Rita's diaries," he said without preamble.

Sarah gestured for him to sit on one of the low children's chairs. Dave felt a little silly, but Sarah sat down facing him and for a moment they just stared at each other before they started to smile.

"I think that I might not only have found Lucy’s dad, but also Evie’s dad, and Ewan’s dad and Paul’s dad," he began once they had sobered. He felt the bitterness of his thoughts spread in him and take on a dangerous life of their own. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared at the tips of his boots. Putting word to his suspicions felt at once liberating and terrifying. It was as if the whole world were about to come tumbling down upon him. Rita’s death wasn’t only about him losing his love but also, one by one, the children he thought were his.

“What?” Sarah asked, her voice tuneless with bewilderment. “Dave, do you know what you’re saying?”

He looked up, his bitterness fuelling a rage he hadn’t known he was capable of, particularly not in that situation. “What am I supposed to think, hmm?” he spat.

“Dave, Dave,” Sarah said, covering his tightly laced fingers lightly. The gesture helped to bring him back to himself, and he drew in a deep breath, leaning back.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know... what I’m thinking, what I’m supposed to think.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Sarah offered.

Dave drew in another breath and told her what he had found out at the studio, going through Rita’s diaries.

“She wouldn’t have done that to you,” Sarah said calmly after he had finished. “And you know that.” The last words sounded like a reprimand, and although he felt his hackles rise he clenched his jaw and ducked his head. Sarah was right. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that Rita would never have betrayed him. She might have been a bit manipulative at times, but she’d never have betrayed him.

“The dates were just very convenient, I suppose. Without you around she had a chance to nip off to Edinburgh with no questions asked. Without lying to you,” Sarah said, reasonably.

“That’s exactly what you need when you want to meet someone else, innit?” Dave muttered despite himself. Where was all that bitterness and distrust coming from? If it was part of his grief he felt ashamed to see what it reduced him to. This was worse than breaking down on the hard shoulder of the M8. “I’m being a pillock, aren’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve just discovered one of Rita’s dark secrets,” Sarah offered.

He looked up, not knowing what to ask first. Did she know anything about this? What other secrets lay there in store for him? Did he even want to know the full extent to which Rita had kept things from him? “Did you know about Stuart?”

“No! No, I didn’t,” she protested.

“And I suppose you wouldn’t...”

“I’m her best friend, Dave. I wouldn’t betray her like that.”

“Yeah, right,” he said, bitterness washing over him again and pulling him under in its treacherous undercurrent.

“I’m not sure how I can help you,” Sarah said, stiffening a little. Her voice became cooler, and he knew that if he said the wrong thing now he’d succeed in the one thing he didn’t want to happen: losing Sarah as well.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Rita and I were very good friends, but you know as well as I that she wasn’t very forthcoming to anyone. I just don’t think that she would have betrayed you like that. I don’t. She didn’t mention either you or the kids to Stuart because she didn’t deem it necessary that he knew. I agree with her on that. It’s not about dismissing you or the kids. It’s... just something Rita did. And she was very particular about Stuart not coming too close. As soon as he began to ask more, she withdrew. He told you so himself, didn’t he? And that sounds very much like the Rita we both know and love,” Sarah said.

Dave averted his eyes and looked at the children’s drawings displayed in the wall. Sarah did have a point. “Aye,” he said. He was so mortified he wished he could just vanish into thin air.

“Dave, it’s okay to wonder,” Sarah said. “You promised Lucy that you would find her father, and you did. I think that’s a very brave thing to do, and I... I admire you for it, I really do.”

He looked at her again, attempting a smile. He was scared, so scared.

“You were bound to discover things about her sooner or later. The question is what you’re going to do,” she continued.

“Dig deeper, or honour her wish to keep things to herself and forget about the diaries,” Dave finished the thought for her. He inhaled deeply. It was the best thing to do, really. He had trusted Rita despite her secretiveness. Why should that change now? And the things Sarah had just said made perfect sense and they really suited Rita. She would think and do things like that. “Rita has always been very insecure about who her real parents were, and she... felt disconnected, and... like an isolated rock in the sea,” he mused. “She told me that.”

“I’m glad she had you,” Sarah said. “She loved you, you know. She loved you so very much.” She bit her lip, and Dave couldn’t help wondering how she meant to finish that sentence, but she remained silent.

“Thank you for your help, Sarah,” he said. “And for being _my_ friend as well.”

-:-

Dave was lying in bed, his cheeks flaming with a mixture of shame and grief. He had woken after a particularly vivid dream of making love to Rita, hard and ready to explode. After he had given himself release, he had plucked a couple of tissues from the box on her side of the bed and cleaned up the sticky mess on his stomach. The power of his dream had been such to suggest her hands travelling his body and teasing him, followed by her mouth, and although he kept his eyes firmly shut he had seen her arch and stretch beneath him, the long line of her throat as he thrust into her, their sounds of pleasure mingling in the small bedroom. He had woken, then, panting and elated, only to find himself alone in bed, and before he’d had a chance to realise, he had given himself a few sharp tugs and twists and come all over his hands and stomach.

As he cleaned himself up and pulled on a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms, tears made his nose itch and pricked his eyes. For the first time since the night after she had died, he allowed himself to cry, about losing Rita and about being reduced to masturbate to the memory of making love to her.

He curled up on his side of the bed, hugging his knees to his chest, sobbing into a pillow that had lost Rita’s scent long ago. His throat began to hurt with the sobs bottled up inside for so long, and, coupled with his shame about thinking the worst of his love, they bubbled up and came out, unchecked. He tried to stifle his sobs and hide his tears in Rita’s pillow, but his grief and shame were so all-consuming that he let out a brief howl of despair.

It raised Evie and Ewan, who pushed open the door to his bedroom, and before he knew it, or even registered it through the veil of tears and memories, his youngest two clambered into bed with him, crawled all over him to hug and kiss him and whisper to him. He drew them into his embrace, held them close and felt even more mortified for ever doubting that they were his. He showered them with kisses and held them close until he realised that they, too, were crying, helpless to console their father in his grief and swept up in their own grief for their mother.

Eventually, they must have fallen asleep, for when Dave woke at the crack of dawn, he found himself part of a wild tumble of limbs and bodies, with Paul wrapped around him. He must have joined them at some point during the night. He pulled his oldest closer to him and reinforced his hold on Ewan. Evie, he noticed, had curled up with her favourite doll around the pillow he had clutched until she and Ewan had found him. He kissed Paul’s forehead and dozed off again until the annoying chirping of his alarm clock roused the four of them to another day without Rita.

They never talked about that night, nor did it ever happen again, but deep down, Dave felt grateful that they had all cried in each other’s arms. They were his children, and he loved them so much he felt his heart might burst and he’d never be able to show them just how much they meant to him.

That Tuesday morning twelve weeks after her death marked the beginning of their new life without Rita, and for the first time Dave was ready to face life without her.


	8. Chapter 8

Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.  
– Andrew Davidson, _The Gargoyle_

Part Two

Eight

Stations had always fascinated Dave, but Edinburgh’s Waverley Station held a special appeal to him. He didn’t really know why. It was just as loud and dirty as all the others, and some of the platforms were discomfortingly narrow. Maybe it was due to the fact that, coming up the ramp from the underground concourse, you were right in the heart of the city. No trekking through run-down neighbourhoods, instead travellers were welcomed to a spectacular view and the choice of climbing the hill to the Old Town or walking into the New Town – each had its own kind of charm.

Rather than finding some peace and quiet in the nearby Gardens and enjoying the beautiful day, Dave found himself standing in the middle of the busy concourse. People hurried past on their way to buy tickets and catch their trains, or ambled past waiting for their loved ones to arrive. It wasn’t nearly as loud as he might have expected it to be, and as he got close to the food stalls he was tempted to get a coffee and something to eat. But then he checked his watch and it wasn’t really time yet for lunch. Since he’d slacked off in the past months he also had to watch out what he spent his money on. There was no way he would touch the funds he had stashed away for a rainy day, not yet, anyway.

So instead he kept wandering around, looking for interesting shots. His heart, however, wasn’t in it that Saturday. He was wondering how Lucy was doing at her first meeting with her father. She had been very nervous on the drive, and she’d kept checking her appearance in the small mirror above the passenger seat. As they’d finally pulled into the Observatory Gardens car park he’d told her that she looked fine, but of course she hadn’t believed him. He wished she had. She didn’t trust him. After all that had happened, she didn’t trust him. His heart had clenched and he’d had to look away. It was understandable that after losing her mother she would want to find out who she was, but it hurt that she didn’t trust him. He couldn’t imagine life without her. As far as he was concerned he was as much her dad as he was Evie’s, Ewan’s and Paul’s. He supposed that finding out who her dad was was one of the experiences, one of the lessons she had to learn from someone else. Still, he couldn’t fight a feeling of being hurt.

Dave was so distracted by his thoughts about Lucy and how she and Stuart were doing that he couldn’t really concentrate on taking decent pictures. No matter where he looked, how hard he looked, the station wouldn’t give him what he was looking for, not that day. He wandered aimlessly.

Eventually, he found himself on one of the oldest platforms, and he snapped a few pictures of the architecture without much enthusiasm. When he checked the display announcing arrivals and departures he saw that a train from London was due to arrive in a couple of minutes. He thought briefly of Rose, whom he knew was travelling back from London that day. It was, of course, silly to assume that she’d be on that particular train — it must be one of the first ones out of London that morning. Nevertheless, he sat on one of the benches, tucking his camera safely away in his bag and watched the people awaiting the arrival. They looked excited and expectant; children were skipping around with barely contained anticipation, the smaller ones just stood, gazing in wonder at all the things happening around them. Two men were clearly awaiting lovers, one with a bouquet the other clutching a single red rose. He smiled at that, and quickly dug out his camera to take a snapshot of the bouquet one was hiding behind his back.

When the train pulled in, he kept watching the people, close to turning away as he felt as if he were intruding upon them as they greeted their loved ones. It also hurt, seeing them like this. They hugged and kissed each other, laughing and squealing as they saw each other again. He looked away and then ducked his head. He wished he were among them.

“Dave?”

He looked up. Rose was standing a few feet away, one hand clutching her enormous handbag, the other tightened around the handle of her suitcase on wheels. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. She was wearing jeans and a light coat over a t-shirt. She looked tired, but lovely.

He blinked.

“Rose.”

“What are you doing here?” Rose asked, putting her suitcase upright and letting go of the handle. People brushed by her, not recognising or expecting her in a crowd like this.

“I... I’m... well, I was trying to work, and I... I saw that this train’s from London and I... well,” he stammered, standing. “I thought of you. Travelling back from London. Never dreamed I’d actually run into you, though.”

“Surprise,” Rose said, smiling widely.

“Welcome back,” he offered, unsure of how to greet her. Taking her hand would be too formal, a hug too familiar. He opted for a quick whisper of a kiss against her cheek. Rose flushed slightly.

“You’re working here?” Rose asked.

Dave shrugged. “I have some time to kill, and I’ve always wanted to take photos of Waverley Station.”

Rose brushed back an errant lock of hair. “I was just wondering if you’d share lunch with me? I’m starving. But I’ll go alone if you’re busy.”

“No, no, I’m just passing time. What about going for a walk so you can stretch your legs? We could have a picnic in the Gardens,” he suggested. It was a glorious day, and the idea of spending it in an airless pub made him shiver mentally.

Rose smiled at him. “You’ve got that much time?” she asked, her tongue peeping out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled at him. It was most distracting but also very irresistible. Why had he never noticed that before?

“Aye,” he said. She was teasing him and he had no witty retort. So he smiled at her.

“I’ll just nip to the left-luggage office,” she said, ducking her head and brushing back the same lock of hair again. She reached behind her for the handle of her suitcase, but he beat her to it and pulled it for her.

A couple of minutes later, her suitcase safely stowed away, they walked down to the Gardens and stopped at a sandwich shop to pick up their lunch. Rose chose a jacket potato and a piece of caramel shortbread, while he opted for some pasta salad. They found themselves a nice spot to sit in the grass where they could enjoy the sunshine but were relatively safe from prying eyes. The traffic sounds were muffled by the shrubbery behind them, and they commanded a great view of the Old Town stretching along the ridge of the hill before them like a giant caterpillar basking in the sun.

“This was a brilliant idea,” Rose said, opening the container that held her potato. She had chosen beans and cheese as a topping.

“That looks like comfort food,” he said, taking the lid off his salad.

Rose chuckled. “It is, but don’t tell me you’re not a fan of pasta.”

“I love it!” he said, tucking in with gusto. The salad was quite good, and he was surprised at how his appetite had made an appearance along with Rose and the idea of not having to eat by himself.

“So, who or what are you waiting for?” Rose asked after they had savoured the first few bites of their meals in silence.

“I’m waiting for my daughter,” he said, and only when the words hung between them did he realise what he had said.

Rose looked at him, the hand with her fork coming to rest on her thigh. She looked surprised, but seemed to rein in her thoughts as she apparently gauged his age. “What’s she up to?” she asked.

“Actually, I’m not her biological father,” Dave said. “Rita, my wife, had had her before we met. Now that... she’s gone, Lucy feels disconnected from everyone and I found her father for her. She’s seeing him for the first time now.”

“Blimey,” Rose said. “Does she know how much you love her?”

“These days, I’m not so sure,” he said softly, digging his fork into his salad with more force than necessary. He hadn’t wanted to tell Rose all this, or anyone else for that matter, and here he sat pouring his heart out to this wonderful woman.

“I’m sure she’ll realise, eventually, who her father is,” Rose said.

He looked up, swallowing hard. “Aye?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if her realising who her father was was something he wanted to find out.

“It’ll be hard work, for both of them,” Rose continued. “For the moment they’ll just... honeymoon, but that’ll change.”

He stared at her. “Honeymoon.”

Rose shrugged. “For want of a better word.”

Sighing deeply, he closed the lid over the rest of his salad and licked his fork clean. “I can’t lose her too,” he said very softly, for fear of his emotions getting the better of him.

“And you won’t. You’re the one person in the world who knows her best. There will come a moment when she realises that. Her... biological father will give her what she wants, anything, but you alone can give her what she needs.”

Sniffling, he looked away. He hoped she was right, but at the moment he was just terrified. Stuart would be able to give her so much more than he, considering the fortune he was making as a lawyer, whereas he was scraping by at the moment. As a photographer, he would never make much money, and he would always be torn between being an artist and being the bread-winner.

He started when Rose put her hand on his arm.

“I know it’s a personal thing to ask but... Have you ever told her how much you love her?” Rose asked.

Heat and cold suffused him when he found the answer was no. He averted his eyes, shame making his heart pound.

“Don’t let her push you away,” Rose said softly.

“I...” Dave said, his thoughts reeling. Lucy could be very intimidating at times, and she’d turned to her mother for comfort. Never to him, not when it was about more than a cursory hug. That hadn’t always been the case, though. When she’d been little, she had often come to him. It had all changed when she had found out that he wasn’t her real father. And he’d let her slip away, helpless and torn and at a loss for what to do.

Rose hesitated a while before saying anything else. “I’m sorry, I... didn’t mean to...” She dropped her hand from his arm, and the spot where her hand had rested was suddenly very cool.

“No,” he conceded, “I just didn’t... I didn’t mean to bother you with this. Not on such a fine day. You must be tired. Can I get you some coffee?” He looked at her, hoping that she wouldn’t turn him away. Meeting her was the single best thing that had happened to him that day, and he didn’t want to thank her by being rude.

For a few moments he held his breath, but then Rose smiled and nodded. “I would like that. Milk and one sugar, please.”

Dave climbed to his feet, entrusting her with his camera equipment before he rushed off to get her the coffee. He had underestimated her. Again. Opening up to her felt so easy. She was a great listener and she knew just the right thing to say. What she had said about Lucy and Stuart sounded very reasonable, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of that himself. The answer was simple. He was too emotionally involved in this; he loved Lucy to bits and he was terrified of losing her. Jealousy, he realised, did play a role in this as well.

As he stood waiting for the barista to fix two coffees for him, he couldn’t help wondering how Rose knew exactly what was going on inside Lucy’s head — without even having met her. Well, she had been a teenager herself once, and not so long ago at that. If anyone, she could look into the heart of a teenage girl.

Clutching the paper cups he realised, for the first time, just how young Rose was. She was fifteen years his junior, only four years older than Tanya. For a moment he wondered if he should stay away from her because she was so young. But when their eyes had met earlier, he couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t only look lost, as Lucy had implied, but also as if she’d seen and done more things than anyone her age. Rose Tyler, he found, was one of the most fascinating women he had ever met. Unlike Rita, however, she didn’t seem to want to keep things close to her heart. She was very generous and open-minded.

The more often they met, he thought, the more mysterious Rose became to him. Everything she did raised more questions and woke the desire in him to get to know her better. He didn’t want to know all her secrets, but he wanted to understand who she was.

When he returned to their picnic spot, Rose had stretched out on her back, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. He couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep. He lowered himself into the grass next to her. “Rose? I’ve got coffee.”

Rose reached for her glasses immediately and, sliding them off, she sat to take the cup from him. “Brilliant, thank you.”

He smiled, lifting his cup to his lips. The coffee was hot and dark, perfect, and exactly what he needed. “Rose, can I ask you something?” he said after they’d sat in silence for a while, watching people pass by.

“Sure,” she said, looking at him to give him her undivided attention.

“Who is the doctor you were asking for, that night in the street? You mistook me for him,” he said.

Rose tensed, and she opened her mouth in reply but closed it again as she changed her mind.

“Sorry, now I’ve gotten too personal,” he mumbled, afraid that she’d clam up completely and leave.

“It’s not an easy question,” Rose said. “But you’re right, I mistook you for him. You are as alike as two peas.”

People looked similar to each other, and like two peas if they were twins, but that he should be the spitting image of another man surprised Dave. “Really?” he squeaked.

Rose smiled a melancholy smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t the pain or the dark.”

Dave shifted a little. “So you’re looking at me and seeing him?” Disappointment washed over him. Of course that explained why Rose had been so eager to give him her numbers, and to talk to him.

“Yes and no. You’re... different. Your sadness is different.”

“My sadness.”

Rose brushed back some locks of hair the breeze had worked out of her untidy knot. “I wouldn’t have given him coffee for fear of him bouncing off the walls. He talked a mile a minute and he could be up one minute and down the next. His hair was crazy, as if it had a will of its own, and... You’re so calm and measured and gentle. The Doctor, he could be exhausting because he didn’t sleep. You...” she finally stopped.

“I’m like his evil twin.”

“No! No, you’re not. You’re... you,” she said, a bit lost for words. “I’d like to get to know you better, because already, his image is fading, and...”

It dawned on him then, but still Dave wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the consolation prize. “You lost him.”

The tension melted off Rose as she nodded, struggling with the breeze and her hair. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Rose sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “I can’t tell you. Not yet. I need... time because I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

“Us?” he echoed dumbly. She’d been telling him that he was the spitting image of the man she’d obviously loved and lost and she was referring to _them_ — whatever they were — as _us_?

Rose looked at him, horrified. “I was hoping there was an _us_. As... friends?”

“I...” he began, not knowing what to say. He really liked Rose, and he was beginning to suspect that he more than just liked her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be just her friend. But on the other hand she’d just compared him to her lost love. He couldn’t possibly fill a dead man’s shoes. He didn’t have the energy for that, and... what was he thinking? Rita’s loss was still hurting and making it hard to breathe at night. “I’m not sure that’s what I want. I’m not sure _what_ I want.”

The horror in Rose’s face made way for dejection. “No, I suppose not.” She smiled bravely at him. “It was stupid of me to think that you’d want to be with me. I mean, you’ve only just lost your wife, and... I’m sorry, Dave.”

“It hasn’t been that long for you either, has it?” he asked softly.

“It’s complicated.”

Dave frowned.

Rose reached out to cup his cheek.

“I can’t tell you now. I want to tell you, but now is not the time. It’s just too much, yeah?” she said, meeting his gaze so he could see the sincerity of her words.

“You are a mystery, Rose Tyler,” he said.

Before she could answer, her phone rang and she picked up the call. It was work-related, she’d explained, so he got up as she talked and gathered his things to go. As he bent to pick up his bag, he brushed a kiss over her cheek and whispered to her that he’d see her at the studio the next day. Then he walked away.

He needed some time to think before he had to pick up Lucy at the Observatory Gardens car park.


	9. Chapter 9

While he’d felt restless wandering around the Waverley concourse, he was upset now. That seemed to be his default state these days. Binning his empty cup, he decided to walk around the New Town. He’d have to be at the car park only in an hour but he might as well be nearby to make sure he was on time. Wandering around the streets lost in thought as he was, He’d be likely to lose track of time and he didn’t want to be late.

He hadn’t lied to Rose when he’d said he wasn’t sure what he wanted. The pain of losing Rita was still so raw and he missed her all the time. It was far too soon to be with anyone else. He wanted to get to know Rose, and already he knew that he didn’t just want to be friends with her. He wanted more, and that scared and embarrassed him. Rose was a clever and warm person, but he was also attracted to her. He’d never liked the idea of friendship with extras because he could see about a hundred things that could go wrong. He certainly wanted more than just the warmth of a friend. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want sex. He did, but he had never been one for casual encounters.

It was good to know that Rose was in a similar situation. She, too, had lost her lover. Maybe they could just get to know each other and take it from there when the time was right. As he walked, Dave’s internal monologue continued working to come to terms with the idea that he was the spitting image of the man in Rose’s past. How was he to determine if her interest was directed at him and not just looking for a replacement for the man she had referred to only as doctor? From their encounters so far, Dave was pretty sure that Rose was not the type to play with him like that, but sometimes loneliness could make you do out-of-character things. But he was lonely too. Were they looking to each other to alleviate their own loneliness for the wrong reasons? He did want to make her feel less lonely because _he_ was with her, and he hoped Rose wanted to be with him for the same reason. Besides, she had already told him that he was entirely different from the man she had referred to only as doctor; and still she wanted to be with him.

Rose had said that she had been stupid to think that he would want to be with her.

He didn’t want to be her consolation prize, and she had realised her mistake, how her behaviour must have come across. Dave froze. She wanted to be with him. That was what she had said, only he hadn’t been listening properly. It wasn’t Rose who was stupid. He was the one who had ben stupid. He’d been so busy trying to figure out what she’d said about her doctor that he’d missed what she was really trying to say.

Mentally kicking himself, he realised that he would have to apologise to her when they met at the studio the next day — if she still wanted to come, that was. If she didn’t show up, he’d not pursue her like he did with Rita. He wasn’t up to playing games. Life was too short for that, to say nothing about his lack of energy to engage in a complicated courtship. He had his business to attend to, and five children to look after. When he went to bed at night he was so exhausted he didn’t even read any more. He would read to Evie when she wanted a bedtime story, but that was about it. He wanted Rita back so badly, to read while she was writing in her diary and to cuddle and make love to her when she was finished.

Dave stopped and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

Michelle was right. What he wanted came last. He’d known that, of course, but still she’d had to drive it home. He wished he could talk to her about Lucy. He also wanted to talk to someone about Rose, to sort out his thoughts — but there was no one. The only other person with whom he had discussed things lately was Rose herself — and he could hardly ask her for advice.

He bought another coffee and passed the time browsing books at one of the bookshops. There were quite a few novels that caught his attention, but despite the tempting three-for-two offer he left the shop without buying anything. Rose, he thought as he went back to his car, must have caught the train to Glasgow.

Shortly after he had stowed his camera equipment in the boot, Stuart pulled into the space next to him in his flashy silver coupé. His heart broke when he saw them embracing as they said good-bye with a hug and a kiss. Stuart merely waved at him, but this time, Dave refrained from returning the gesture. Lucy was beaming as she stepped toward him, but mixed in her smile was the realisation that now she would have to go back to her life in the slightly messy house on Hillingdon Drive.

“Hey,” he said, smiling despite everything.

“Hi.”

“So... how did it go?” he asked.

“Good.” She watched Stuart reverse and drive away.

Rose’s words about not letting Lucy brush him off flitted through his mind, but he didn’t know how to do that for fear of pushing Lucy away. She already thought that he was a control freak and he didn’t want to compound that idea. “I know that it’s a bit soon but if you want to talk about what has happened today I’d be happy to listen. You know that, aye?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking out of the window. Dave pulled out of the lot and concentrated on the traffic. They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

-:-

Rose sat stunned, staring at her phone for a while. She’d barely been able to concentrate on the call after Dave had made such a hasty exit. If he hadn’t kissed her and whispered the confirmation of the next day’s appointment to her she’d have thought she’d seen him for the last time. He had taken the news that he looked like the Doctor better than she’d anticipated but of course it must have been a blow. For a moment there she’d debated not answering his question, but waiting would only make it worse and give Dave all kinds of ideas why she was so reluctant to talk to him. Goodness knows what he was thinking now, apart from the obvious.

She didn’t want him to be like the Doctor. Thinking back to the lunch they’d shared she remembered that not once had she looked at him and seen the Doctor. He had always been Dave Tiler for her after she’d realised in hospital that the walls between the universes were sealed off forever. Dave was only partially right when he’d assumed that her loss had been recent — the finality of it was because hope dies last. But in fact she’d lost him years ago.

It saddened her that the Doctor’s image had started to fade long ago, together with other tiny things about him. Like the sound of his voice. That was something Dave had reminded her of, but then there was a different quality to his voice; it was in part due to his accent, but Dave also seemed more measured and calm. He looked like the Doctor, but they couldn’t be more different.

She had messed things up by telling him.

As she slipped on her sunglasses, she decided that she really hadn’t messed things up. She had, however, been clumsy in the way she told him. Now she needed to find a way to make it clear that they really were nothing at all alike and that when she looked at him she saw Dave, not her lost love.

Rose finished her nearly cold coffee with a shudder and gathered her things to leave. If she hurried a bit she might be just in time to catch the next train to Glasgow. She wished she could head straight home from the station but Mickey’s call had been to let her know that he’d meet her at the station. They had picked up a source of mylobam radiation that needed to be contained. It was a job the boys could easily have accomplished without her but apparently Jake had discovered a promising asset for the new Glasgow branch, and the two men wanted her to be there when they assessed him in the field.

“Him?” Rose had asked, distractedly playing with a tuft of grass.

“Yeah,” Mickey had replied, his grin audible.

Rose had sighed. “Right. I’ll call again from the train to let you know when I’ll be there.”

Mickey had sounded a little disappointed at her reply. He had been trying to draw her out of her shell, to make her go out and meet people, but she had been so focused on the dimension cannon that she had been reluctant to form any new relationships that would make leaving even more difficult than it already was. Also she felt she needed all her wits about her for the test runs, and so she had avoided any distractions. It had taken Mickey and Jake a long time to accept that. Of course, by trying to get her to socialise they had wanted her to think things over and not leave after all. She’d known that all along, and because she’d been touched by that gesture, she had felt guilty for refusing them so stubbornly.

Pulling her suitcase behind her after she’d picked it up at the left-luggage office, she thought with a sigh that Mickey’s good humour had told her that the promising asset was promising on more than just the professional level. Although she was ready to move on now she didn’t want to meet anyone. Anyone apart from Dave, that was, but only the next evening would show if he was still interested in her.

She made the train, and not quite an hour later Mickey met her at Queen Street station with a hug and a kiss. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, taking her suitcase.

“It’s good to be back. I can’t wait to set up things,” Rose said, grinning. Her thirst for action surprised her. She had been eager to set up a proper Glasgow branch since she’d spoken to Pete about it on Monday, but as the week had worn on, the paperwork and red tape they’d had to go through had dampened her enthusiasm considerably. If there was one thing she hated it was paperwork and red tape. Luckily, Pete and some of the lawyers and advisers had helped move things along and so she carried the paperwork in her suitecase, and they were good to go. “So, tell me about him,” she said as she buckled into the passenger seat of the single Torchwood car loose on the streets of Glasgow. It was a huge monster of an SUV that Rose intended to get rid of. It was just too masculine and it devoured vast amounts of fuel without offering anything that a smaller vehicle didn’t.

“His file is in the side pocket if you want to read it,” Mickey said, starting the car and pulling into the traffic.

“I’d rather you tell me about him. Just the facts, no opinion. I want to meet him unbiased,” Rose said, brushing her fingers over the buff-coloured folder tucked into the side-pocket of the door.

“He’s the doctor who treated you after your accident,” Mickey said after a pause.

“Oh.” He wasn’t dating material then.

“He asked a lot of good questions to be able to give you the best possible treatment. He was also quite surprised at your swift recovery; and the fact that you stopped it before the scars could disappear,” Mickey said.

Rose pushed the errant lock of hair back. “He did a great job, but the scars are none of his business,” she said.

“We also called on him when Jake was bitten by an Uggsomegaut on Wednesday.”

That statement earned him her full attention. “What?” Uggsomegauts were what they had named a lumbering creature the size of a boar that had settled in the Highlands. To the locals, they were a mythical beast, but luckily there were enough mentions in the relevant literature to give the team at least a basic idea of what they were up against. Uggsomegauts were ugly but basically peaceful, and the one that had attacked Jake had only done so because its nest had been disturbed by some teenagers from the city who were bored and looking to wreak havoc.

An Uggsomegaut’s saliva contained a hallucinogenic poison that caused nasty inflammations, which was why a bite had to be treated as quickly as possible. They had only discovered the Uggsomegauts were for real a couple of years ago, so they went after every bit of information they could get about the beasts. Luckily, treating the bite wasn’t complicated but it needed a special salve that only a fully trained doctor could provide.

“And so you called on Henley,” Rose stated matter-of-factly after Mickey had given her the basics of the Uggsomegaut incident. Henley, Rose had to admit, had done an excellent job at treating her. She knew it was silly to have qualms about having him on the team because of what had happened a month before. Chances were that he would have to treat her again, and in that case it would be good, actually, to have someone she could trust, who knew her and her body. He definitely wasn’t dating material.

“Yeah. Shouldn’t we have? Torchwood down in London cleared him,” Mickey said.

“No, ‘s all right. I think he’d be great to have on the team, but,” she said, brushing her hair back, “please don’t hire him for the wrong reasons.”

“And those are?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the other cars.

“Mickey, you and Jake have been trying to find me a man. Which is incredibly nice of you, and touching, but I’d like to do that myself, yeah?”

The muscles in Mickey’s cheek flexed as he listened. “So are you telling me you’re looking for someone?”

Rose wanted to chastise him, but instead she opted for a simple, “Yeah.”

He looked at her briefly, grinning. “Good! I’m happy to hear that.”

That, Rose thought, had been surprisingly easy.

Rose recognised the neighbourhood where Mickey was taking them at once. It was the street of derelict and abandoned warehouses in which Dave had found her after the dimension cannon had exploded. She exchanged glances with Mickey, who merely shrugged. He pulled up outside a tall, once-white building that had holes where the windows had once been. Jake and Dominic Henley were already waiting for them, each of them had a large black case by their feet.

Dominic Henley wasn’t attractive in the conventional sense. He had dark, slightly curly hair that was the only match for the Doctor’s she’d seen when it came to ruffability. His face was long with high cheekbones that accentuated his dark blue eyes as well as his full lips. He was tall and slender, and there was an energy to him that begged release. Still, as a doctor he had a great bedside manner, and his calm inspired confidence and trust. He could think on his feet but so far hadn’t tended to rush decisions. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a loose oxford.

Dominic broke into a wide smile when he saw her get out of the car. Rose tensed a little. The last thing she wanted was for him to be interested in her on more than a professional basis. Friendship might be in it, because she liked him. But that was it. She thought of Dave, whom she had offered the job as a photographer for the Heritage Trust Fund.

“Hello, Jake,” she said as she joined the two men on the pavement. “Dominic.”

Jake kept a straight face while Dominic smiled at her. He was obviously delighted to see her. Rose heaved an inward sigh.

“How was your journey?” Jake asked.

“Good,” Rose said, “now, shall we?” She pulled the elastic from her hair and gathered it into a proper ponytail to keep the locks that had kept coming loose in check.

They found the container with the dangerous radiation fast enough, stirring up a group of junkies who had managed to open it, wondering what it was and if they could sell it off to satisfy their addiction. The two who had forced the container open had already suffered burns and first symptoms of poisoning. Dominic proved himself as he treated the two and got them into a good enough shape that they could be taken to a regular hospital without raising any questions. He worked quickly and efficiently, sometimes muttering to himself as he thought out loud, but all in all he was just like Mickey had said. Calm and quick.

“What was that?” he asked again, out loud, as he watched the injured junkies being bundled into an ambulance and their friends being escorted outside by the police Jake had called. Mickey tightened his grip around one of the the black boxes they had brought. It now contained the damaged container and the rest of the radioactive material. Jake was busy cordoning off the perimeter for decontamination. Rose thought briefly that they needed more personnel, and fast, to deal with situations like this. Glasgow really wasn’t just a field office any more.

“Let’s go back to the office and I’ll explain everything to you,” Rose said.

Dominic looked at her, taking a deep breath. “How are you?”

Rose smiled. “Fine, thank you.” She gestured at the SUV’s door for him to get in. Mickey loaded the black box into the boot before thumping the back of the door to let Rose know that she could leave. She had slipped behind the steering wheel.

“What about them?” Dominic asked.

“They’re taking care of things.”

“Ah.”

As she drove she felt him looking at her.

“What?” she asked, laughing nervously as they were standing at a traffic light.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Rose smiled at him. “’s a long story.”


	10. Chapter 10

Dominic took his time answering her. They were getting close to Muirbank, where Torchwood had established its field office in an abandoned Priory. The adjacent St Anthony’s church, was used as a concert hall, and there was a nice restaurant called Tony’s attached to it — it was named after the church rather than the owner, but everyone referred to him as Tony anyway. In their time in Glasgow, the field team had become his best patrons. The buildings of the actual Priory had been empty for more than a century. There had been plans to demolish it, but thanks to the Heritage Trust Fund it had been saved; its location on the River Clyde, and proximity to the widest rift opening, made it perfect for Torchwood’s purposes. They had rented it from the church when they had first gotten to Glasgow, but meanwhile Torchwood had started negotiations to buy the entire complex. It certainly helped that Rose had decided to move the Heritage Trust Fund to Glasgow.

Having been built in the 16th century, the walls were thick and solid, and there was a warren of underground vaults beneath it. It had a very nice garden, plenty of outbuildings fit for their various needs, and the whole complex was closed off from the public eye by high walls. Of course it was the perfect location for a foundation that had taken up the preservation and research of historical buildings in Scotland.

When Rose was injured there had been no way to establish a field infirmary quickly enough, so she was taken to the Old Royal Infirmary. They had managed to arrange a secure private ward for her, with only Doctor Henley and a few hand-picked nurses allowed in to care for her. They would have to change that, of course. Dominic would get his very own infirmary. Rose wondered if he was aware of what he was in for.

“Are you brushing me off?” he asked eventually.

“No, I’m just telling you that the story is long and complicated.”

“I have this strange idea that you don’t do simple,” Dominic said.

Rose laughed. He was definitely the right man for the job. “Let’s get the business part of the way. Then I’ll answer your questions over dinner.”

“As long as I can have a night to sleep on the business part.”

Rose shot him a quick glance. He was really good. When they were evaluating people for jobs there were some who seemed promising enough but were unaware that they were about to be made an offer. Usually, they would be sent back to their own lives without being any the wiser. Dominic, however, was not one of them. He had sussed them out, although he still had only the vaguest of ideas of what he was in for. Dominic looked straight ahead, paying attention to where they were going.

“You can even have two nights,” Rose said, stopping the car. She got out to open the gate, then steered the big car into the courtyard of the Priory. She led him to her small office in one of the ground-floor rooms. It was a lovely office, and she was glad that she’d be able to keep it. She already had plans for some small improvements, but nothing could beat a vaulted office with wonderful old flagstones. It was bit cool, but that could be fixed easily.

Rose gestured for Dominic to sit in the folding chair across from her makeshift desk — a board on a pair of trestles. He frowned a little at her less than professional office.

“We’re just settling in,” Rose explained, hoping he wouldn’t be deterred by the spartan furnishings.

“Ah.”

“What do you know about Torchwood?” Rose asked without further ado.

Dominic blanched slightly at first, but then he recovered his composure. “What do you want me to say? You _are_ Torchwood, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are. And while we like to keep a low profile, there’s nothing sinister about us,” Rose said.

“So Vitex is a cover?” he asked.

It was Rose’s turn to stiffen slightly.

“You’re not the social butterfly you pretend to be. It’s a cover. You work for Torchwood. Dealing with... aliens,” Dominic said. He was very good.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Why do I do this job? Why does Torchwood exist?” Rose asked.

Dominic nodded.

“Torchwood deals with artifacts and aliens that come to Earth. Glasgow sits on a rift in time and space that lets through people and things from other planets or the past and the future,” Rose explained. “We’re here to monitor the rift and try to keep interaction between aliens and humans to a minimum.”

She couldn’t tell if Dominic believed her story, his face was impassive.

“I’m from a parallel universe. I travelled with a man called the Doctor and saw times and worlds beyond your wildest dreams. Eventually, I got stranded here and Pete Tyler, this universe’s version of my father, offered me a job with Torchwood. He’s been running the institute since after Lumic unleashed the Cybermen,” Rose explained. It was the simple version, but it would have to do for the moment. It was surprising how easily the words had come.

“Does that explain your powers of self-healing? I noticed that your recovery was very swift after... whatever it was that you’d been up to that night,” Dominic asked.

“It has to do with it, yeah.”

“Could you make the scars disappear?”

Rose shifted a little in her chair. “I could, yeah. But I won’t. It’s... personal.”

Dominic nodded. “Why am I here?”

“Well, we really like your work, and we think you’ve got what we need to run our medical team. We’re establishing a permanent branch of Torchwood here, and we need staff,” Rose said.

Dominic remained impassive, but he asked her to describe the job to him, which she did. Just when each of his questions had been answered, his beeper went off and he called the Old Royal Infirmary. They needed him there for an emergency, so dinner at Tony’s was cancelled. Rose gave him her card and told him to ring her on Monday once he had made his decision.

“We’d love to have you working with us,” Rose said as she saw him out to the taxi that was already waiting outside the Priory.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dominic said, climbing into the car.

If only it were that easy to tell Dave about what she did for a living, Rose thought, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped through the gate again. He deserved to know — at least he needed to know more about the Doctor and how she had ended up in this universe. She wondered if Dave was ready to hear about it yet; he still seemed so fragile over losing his wife.

-:-

Rose slept in on Sunday and started the day with a long bath and a bit of pampering. She hadn’t really done that since before the accident, and so she spent what was left of the morning applying a moisturising mask to her face. She scrubbed her skin pink and got out her razor to take care of her prickly legs. The feel of the body lotion was all the more luxurious on her smooth skin. With a bit of twisting and turning she managed to look at her scars, running her fingers gingerly over them. Touching them didn’t hurt, but she wanted to commit their landscape to her memory. Not that she’d ever forget how she’d gotten them. The disappointment and hollowness she felt were worse than the pain. Actually, the pain hadn’t been too bad while Dave was sitting with her. She’d been in shock, her body protecting her from everything so she could assess her injuries and get her bearings. In theory.

Dave had stolen into her thoughts again, and Rose dropped her fingers away from the scars. Would he be repulsed by them? The rest of her skin was smooth and soft, unblemished except the moles that dotted it as if she’d had a little accident with chocolate coating.

She made herself another cup of tea and settled down on her sofa with the copy of _Homes and Gardens_ she had picked up at Waverley Station the day before. Although she had some ideas of what to do with her house, it still couldn’t hurt to go hunting for ideas a little. The last thing she wanted was perfectly decorated house that didn’t feel like a home.

Halfway through the magazine, her mobile rang with the tune she’d assigned to the number on her business card. Rose sighed. The number on the display was a mobile number she didn’t recognise. For a moment she was tempted to ignore the call, but then she tapped the accept-button after all. “Tyler?”

“Hello, this is Lucy. Morris.”

It took Rose a while to remember who Lucy was. She had totally forgotten about the girl while she’d been down in London. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, I suppose,” Lucy said. Her voice sounded small, like someone who’d call for advice but did not know how to ask for it.

Rose closed the magazine and pulled the blanket tighter around her, balancing her nearly empty mug on her knee. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Lucy hesitated. “I’ve been wondering about the aliens. Are they all right? Are they at home?”

“Yes, they’re fine, and I suppose they’re on their way home by now. That’s sweet of you to ask,” Rose replied. And a bit odd, too, but she didn’t mention that.

“That’s good for them.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Being stranded so far away from home must be terrible,” Lucy said so softly Rose almost didn’t even catch her words.

“Yeah, it is,” Rose replied thoughtfully.

“It’s good that they have Torchwood to turn to.”

“Lucy, what is this about? Do you need help?” Rose asked gently. She didn’t want to scare her away. The questions she’d asked and the things she’d said had been more than a little odd.

Lucy didn’t reply for such a long time that Rose was afraid she’d lost her, but then Lucy said, “I... I’m a bit confused at the moment. About home. What or where it is.”

 _You’ve found the right person to talk to_ , Rose thought. “Are you sure you want to discuss this over the phone?”

“I know you’re a busy woman,” Lucy hurried to say. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“No, it’s not that, Lucy. Listen, love, what I meant it’s not something you discuss over the phone. Would you like to meet up?” Rose wondered, why was she asking. She’d meant to spend the day holed up in her house, making plans and napping, and now she practically threw herself at the girl.

“You’d do that?” Lucy’s voice brightened at the offer. _Anything to help a teenager_ , Rose thought.

“I wouldn’t offer, would I? Let’s meet at the Camelot. Do you know where that is?”

“I’ll find it, thank you so much!” Lucy said exuberantly.

The Camelot was a coffee shop not far from her house, and Francesca, the owner, knew her well enough to leave her alone when she was there, usually offering her a seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Rose dried her hair, put on some very basic make-up and donned jeans and a comfortable jumper before grabbing her keys and handbag and walking to the café.

Francesca greeted her with a huge cappuccino and a piece of caramel short bread, which she set before her on the low table in front of the fireplace. It had grown warm enough not need a fire anymore, so the grate had been replaced with a sculpture by a local artist. Lucy arrived shortly after, her face glowing. She was fidgeting nervously, brushing her long hair back as she sat on the edge of the sofa. This young woman was very different from the girl she had met in the park a week ago.

“Hello, Lucy.”

“You’re really here,” Lucy blurted.

Rose chuckled. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Lucy’s face darkened.

“You’ve been let down a couple of times,” Rose said.

Lucy shrugged. “Not... like that.”

“But?”

“I’m confused,” Lucy said, shaking her head so that her hair fell around her like a curtain.

“About your family?” Rose asked.

Lucy nodded. “I’ve got two families.”

“That can be confusing, yeah,” Rose said.

“You know what I mean?”

Rose shrugged, picking up her cup to take a sip. Francesca arrived to take Lucy’s order. Of course she knew. Mum only after Dad’s death. The Doctor. Mum and Pete and Tony. In different universes, mind you. But she couldn’t tell Lucy any of that. “It’s not easy, and you’re torn between them because you love them both but you need to choose, yeah?” Making her choose at that tender age wasn’t fair.

Lucy nodded, smiling at her.

“They say home is where the heart is. I don’t suppose that you’ve always known about your other family, yeah?”

Lucy nodded, but she didn’t volunteer anything else.

“How long have you known about the other family?”

“Two weeks.”

Rose bit back a smile. “So you’ve only just met.” Lucy was making herself choose, at far too early a stage. She was still in the honeymoon stage with them; the thought caused a strong sense of déjà vu, and then she remembered that she’d offered Dave the same words.

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you give each other a bit more time? To properly get to know each other, to find out what your lives are like. I take it that your new family’s life is entirely different?” Rose asked. She wanted to know what had happened, who this second family was and what their story was, but she didn’t want to come across as too nosey. Also, she didn’t want to indulge the teenager and wax lyrical about these new family members lest she put them on a pedestal. The disappointment could be crushing if they didn’t turn out to be as amazing as she’d hoped they’d be. Which had probably already happened, but Rose didn’t want to compound the problem.

Lucy seemed a bit disappointed at that piece of advice. Rose had never been someone to tell people what they wanted to hear, and she certainly wouldn’t do it to a teenager. She picked up her piece of caramel shortbread and bit into it to give Lucy some time to process what she had told her.

“I’ll think about it,” Lucy said. Her phone chirped in her bag and she dug for it. “It’s Dad.”

“Well, then you’d better get it,” Rose grinned and winked conspiratorially.

“Dad.”

Rose frowned at the frosty greeting, hoping she’d been right to tell her to wait and see how things developed.

“I’m with a friend. We’re in a café, listen!” With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Lucy held up the phone so her father could hear the background noise of people talking and Francesca’s shiny Gaggia hissing. Lucy’s father seemed to be a bit of a control freak. For a moment Rose wondered if she should say hello to him to prove that Lucy was not meeting a boy. But Lucy was fifteen, she was old enough to meet boys. If she were interested in them. At the moment, family matters seemed on the top of her list.

“I’ll be back in time for tea, don’t worry. Bye.” Lucy snapped her mobile shut and slumped back with a sigh. “See?”

“I’m sure he’s only worried.”

“Yeah. And in need of some stuff for dinner. I’m sorry I’ve got to go and get some groceries on my way home. Thank you for meeting me. Miss Tyler.” Lucy smiled, and Rose was relieved that she hadn’t sounded too much like a parent or teacher to her — well, until her father had called, anyway.

“My pleasure, Miss Morris. Good luck.”

-:-

Rose decided to go for a walk before she needed to go home and get ready for her date with Dave. It wasn’t really a date, she admonished herself, it was a meeting so he could show her the rest of the photos from the charity event and give her an idea of what he did. It was business; she’d offered him a job with the Heritage Trust Fund. She’d better dress a bit more formally, but casually enough not to turn Dave away. She did want to get to know him better. She exchanged her jumper for a light blue oxford and put on a pair of nice heels. She put on her favourite necklace to go with the blouse and twisted her hair up into a messy knot. Perfect.

She arrived at the studio with a few minutes to spare, so she had a look around the area. His studio was close to the School of Art. It was located in an old warehouse that had seen better days, but the front door had recently received a glossy coat of blue paint and the brass plate advertising his studio was polished. He seemed a professional through and through, and the shabbiness of the building added a certain charm that she found reflected his personality quite well.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell. To her surprise he didn’t buzz her in but opened the door for her himself. He was wearing a loose shirt and had not shaved. Rose bit her lip when she saw how good he looked.

“Hello, Rose,” he said, smiling and stepping aside to let her enter.

He had used the warehouse well to set up his studio. The huge room had been divided up into various areas with a state-of-the-art computer and specialist equipment, a kind of lounge with a pair of red leather sofas, and the studio proper. The prop warehouse had been partitioned off with plasterboard. Off to one side, close to the shelves holding binders and books, he had set up a huge old kitchen table, accessible from all sides, with good lighting overhead. On it, she noticed, he had set out a couple of big-format folders.

“’s lovely,” Rose said. Her gaze fell on the curtain of fairy lights he had put up behind the sofa backed against the wall.

He gestured for her to sit, smiling at the compliment. “Would you like something to drink? I have,” he checked the fridge, “beer. And beer.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have a beer, thanks,” Rose said, pushing the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth. “I meant what I said. It’s lovely.” She looked at the photos displayed on the walls; he had had his photos transferred to canvas.

“It seems a bit vast sometimes, but having the space really helps,” he said, opening the bottles and passing her one. He sat on the other sofa and raised his bottle to clink it to hers before taking a thoughtful sip. Why was he so nervous?

“Never hurts to have plenty of space,” Rose said. She had thought of the blue box in which she used to travel and lowered her gaze on the label of the bottle. Why wouldn’t _he_ leave her alone?

“Shall we?” he asked into the awkward silence that ensued.

Rose smiled and stood, putting the bottle onto the coffee table. She couldn’t wait to see his work.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, catching up with her and touching her elbow.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for running away yesterday,” he said. “I should have listened to you. You were going to tell me about your doctor, and all I did was... upset you. You’ve lost him recently, and clearly talking about him is painful. But what you said, about him and me... I dinnae take it too well, did I?”

Rose looked at him, stunned. If anything, she hadn’t expected him to apologise to her. She owed him an explanation, but instead he’d beaten her to it. “He wasn’t _my_ doctor,” she said, dumbly. “He was _the_ Doctor, that was his name.”

Dave’s eyes went wide, and he fished for words, dropping his hand from her elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“He was never really mine. I loved him and he loved me, in his own way, but he was never my Doctor,” Rose continued, suddenly incapable of thinking straight as the grief she had suppressed for so long finally erupted with full force. Despite Dave’s flummoxed expression she kept going, she just couldn’t help herself. “We didn’t so much as kiss. He never said…, not until it was too late. I was too scared to tell him I loved him and yet he put the universe at my feet. He burned up a sun for me, and even then he couldn’t... I’d scared him, I’d crossed the line, and I messed it all up.” Her last words were blubbery sobs. Her head was spinning with her words and yet she was unable to stop herself. Tears were streaming down her face as she thought to herself that she had pushed him away for good, the first man she wanted to get to know, to be with, since she had died in her own universe.

Dave just stared at her, but then he reached out and pulled her towards him, into his arms, and he just held her, saying nothing. In her surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as she started to sob uncontrollably. He began to brush his thumbs over her back in soothing crescents, his fingers warm through her shirt. Dave even felt different than the Doctor. The Doctor had been cool and skinny, his muscles tense with barely contained energy. Dave, on the other hand, felt shockingly warm to her body’s memory, and solid. He smelled warm and clean, not of that strange mixture of soap and marble halls the Doctor had about him. He felt good.

She was soaking his shirt, she realised, and pulled back. Dave let go of her reluctantly, and he hurried to his desk to get a box of tissues he kept there. “There’s a bathroom, if you’d like to, ah, clean up,” he said, gesturing towards the low building behind the lounge area. “I have some tea here.”

“Thanks,” Rose choked.

The lighting in the bathroom was gorgeous, perfect for applying make-up, and there was a vanity for those occasions. The two doors opened to the toilet proper and a small changing room. He was very professional. Whereas she had fallen apart on him and treated his apology as an insult to the Doctor’s memory.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her face red, eyes swollen and puffy with black smudges beneath them where her mascara had run. “What have you done, Rose Tyler?” she hissed accusingly. She had probably wrecked her only chance of explaining herself to Dave. She’d had no problem at all telling Dominic about her former life, but she had been hopeless with Dave.

Rose scrubbed her face clean and blew her nose. She had some mascara in her handbag, but, holding it between her fingers, she decided against putting any on. “Time to say good bye,” she muttered, dropping the tube back into her bag. Squaring her shoulders, she took her bag and returned to the lounge.

The two bottles of beer had vanished from the coffee table. The kettle had just clicked off and Dave was pouring water into two mugs. His jaw was set, and his movements, although practised, lacked the ease that came with it; everything he did seemed very deliberate and measured, as if he were afraid of breaking or spilling something. He was keeping his anger in check. A perfect copy of the Oncoming Storm.

Leave me alone, Rose thought bitterly, closing her eyes.

“Hey,” Dave said, looking up. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He smiled gently. “I’ve made tea.”

“I think I’d better go,” Rose said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“I think,” Dave said, fishing the tea bags out of the mugs, “you should stay.”

“What?”

“You haven’t told anyone what you’ve told me, have you?” he said, giving her his full attention.

It was her turn to stare at him aghast.

He picked up the mugs and carried them to the coffee table. Surprising herself, Rose moved to join him, glad to be able to sit down. “No, I haven’t,” she said softly, reaching for the mug. “I’ve soiled your shirt.” There was a damp patch on his shoulder, and even a touch of black.

“It’ll wash,” Dave said.

“You aren’t mad at me?”

He sighed, wrapping his fingers around his mug and pursing his lips. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but I also think that you need someone to listen to you.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Rose asked. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she was — and how incredibly generous and kind Dave was, to be willing to listen to her despite his own worries and grief. Maybe that was the starting point. “The Doctor was rubbish at comforting.”

Dave leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked into his mug. “He treated you like that, and still you loved him?”

“It was usually better than that, but when there was something that upset me, he just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Did he upset you?”

“No.”

“But he didn’t let you love him,” Dave said. “Properly, I mean. I’d say he was a fool for not loving you back, but you did say he put the universe at your feet and that he burned up a sun for you.”

Rose took a fortifying sip of her hot tea. “He did have his own way of doing things.”

There was a moment when Rose felt almost ready to tell him everything, but something kept her back.

“I’m sorry for falling apart on you, and for insulting you when you apologised to me,” Rose said instead. “But that cry and your comfort did feel very good.”

“I’d like to say any time, but I’d rather not see you that upset again,” Dave said.

“Shall we have a look at the photos then?” Rose asked.

Dave nodded thoughtfully, and when they stood this time, Rose kept her mug of tea. At the table, he opened a folder and showed her the prints he had made of the photos from the charity event. They were even better than the ones he had sold the press, and Rose felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. He had captured her in unguarded moments, and the emotions in her face ranged from the loneliness she so often felt, to escape, to brief delight, to seriousness as she listened intently to a person who wasn’t in the picture.

“Do you like them?” he asked.

“Very much.”

“Keep them. I’ve burned them onto a CD for you, and I’ll only keep a couple of digital copies for my files,” he said.

“I can’t accept that.”

“Please.” He fished out a print of the view of the city he had taken. It was gorgeous, and memories of the stolen moments with him on the roof top flooded back into her consciousness. She gasped and nodded.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, smiling. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, then took a breath and said, “I might not be able to put the universe at your feet or burn up a sun for you, but I’m glad I could make you smile again.”

He bent his head studiously as he gathered the prints and returned them to the folder, avoiding her reaction. But Rose was, for once, too surprised to say anything, too stunned at everything he had done for her that night to help her think clearly. Everything about him spelled his interest in her despite having seen her dark side. A pleasant tingle travelled down her spine, and she sipped her tea.

“Can I see more?” she croaked, overcome with emotion.

He showed her his landscapes and a draft of the brochure he had put together for the Glasgow Street Museum. Rose was impressed by his work. Dave was very talented, and she would consider herself lucky if he agreed to work for the Heritage Trust Fund.


	11. Chapter 11

Dave gathered his thoughts as Rose looked at his photographs. To say that her earlier outbreak had shocked him would be an understatement. He had apologised to her, but instead of accepting it, she had taken further offence at his words. This doctor-chap of hers mystified him as much as she did. He obviously had done nearly everything for her, but for some reason he hadn’t been able to tell her how much he loved her. Why had he held back? He wouldn’t let Rose go, not if he could help it. He would never forgive himself if he did. She had been acting out of the need to open up to someone. Apparently, she had never talked to anyone about the Doctor.

He thought he had a fair idea of what she was going through — he had recognised the hollowness in her eyes earlier. Her emptiness had come with actual loss; it reminded him of the project he had started two years ago and never finished had sprung from his fear of losing his family. He had felt empty and devastated after a nightmare, and he had tried to banish and channel this feeling of powerlessness into something productive. The result was a folder full of harrowing, beautiful black and white photos that was his most personal project. Rita had seen one or two of the photos, but she had initially been dismissive of them; she had told him later that she found them terrifying.

Rose reminded him of that feeling more than his actual loss. He knew that the dream hadn’t been foreshadowing. He didn’t believe in that sort of things. But the worst had happened and now he felt more than just empty, though he didn’t know if he could find words to describe his feelings. The best way to do so was probably to return to the project and suddenly he knew that he had to show it to Rose, that she would understand. For some reason, Dave knew that showing the folder to Rose was the right thing to do.

“Actually, I have something else as well,” he said eventually. “I’ve been working on it for myself and it doesn’t really have any bearing on the Heritage Trust Fund work I might do for you, but I have a feeling that you’ll like it.“

“Oh?” Rose asked, looking up. She had put down her mug on the very edge of the table. Now that her face was scrubbed clean and no longer red from her crying, she looked very young and very much like herself. He loved seeing this side of her. He also felt humbled that she’d be willing to be this unguarded around him. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine her being like this around relative strangers. Showing her the Emptiness Folder felt very right.

“Well, it’s... something very personal,” he said.

“Now you’ve made me curious,” Rose said.

“It’s nothing special. I haven’t worked on it in a while, and I’m not really happy with it,” he said, both flattered and a bit embarrassed by her interest. As the words left his mouth he realised that one of the reasons why he had stopped working on the project was that something had been missing in the photos. Now he knew what it was.

“I’d love to see it, Dave,” she said.

He rubbed the back of his neck. The truth was that Rose had inspired him. Her face was so expressive and the camera loved her. He simply had to ask her if she wanted to work on the project with him. It certainly wasn’t the right moment to ask her this, but he was afraid that if he just let her go now he wouldn’t see her again. She seemed horrified at herself for breaking down like she had, and he wanted to show her that he had taken no offence.

Dave hurried to get the folder he had hidden between his desk and the wall. The photos he had taken so far would become redundant if Rose agreed to working with him. He had little hope, however, that she would agree to. The ideas he had, the pictures he envisioned, were outside anything he had ever done before. Rose’s public portfolio didn’t show her in anything quite so daring.

“It’s a mad idea, really,” he began, untying the ribbons that closed the folder. “Please do say no if you don’t like it. I realise that you have to be very careful about things like this.”

“Let me see what it is we’re talking about first, yeah?” she asked gently.

“Actually, while you were looking at the other photos I had an idea that will alter the feel of these, but look at them first and then I'll tell you my idea,” he said, stepping aside to let her take a look at the photos he had put into the folder. They were a collection of black and white shots of abandoned buildings and their interiors. At the time he had thought them haunting and ghostly, imagining all sorts of people around them, seeking shelter after some horrific event. But now they were just empty rooms. They were as empty as he had felt, and they felt even more depressing now that Rita was gone. They were a perfect image of his soul.

“They’re beautiful,” Rose said, looking up from them to him in bewilderment. “I’m not sure why you don’t like them.”

He took a leap of faith. “They’re just too much like me at the moment.”

“Oh,” Rose said, biting her lip. She leafed through the photos, spreading them on the table in front of them. “I like them a lot. You should come to my place. It looks a lot like this. Although it’s in much better repair. It’s jus’... empty.”

“Aye,” he said, holding her gaze, willing her to understand that he felt just as empty and hollow as she did. She was a kindred soul; he had a feeling that she knew exactly what was going on inside him.

“They’re beautiful and haunting. They make me wonder what happened in the rooms,” Rose said, returning her attention to the photos. In most of the photos, the rooms had been reclaimed by nature, vines and weeds growing in them. Once, he had been incredibly lucky and found a room in which snow had collected on the debris littering the floor. There were rooms with peeling wallpaper, offering glimpses of past lives. Leaves and old newspapers had collected in the corners of rooms. He had caught a wall dappled by sunlight filtering in through the foliage as it fell on the flaking paint. Dust motes were dancing in the piercing beams of sunlight cutting through gaps and knotholes in boarded-up windows.

“There’s always windows, and always light,” Rose said, looking up. “I like that. It suits you.”

Dave chewed the inside of his cheek. It was something he hadn’t noticed until then, but Rose was right. There were always windows and the pattern of light painting bright rectangles on the floors and walls. “I suppose there are.”

“I love them. They’re gorgeous,” Rose said. “I’m no expert, of course, but I really like them.”

“I think,” Dave began, bracing his hand on his hip and drawing a deep breath, “I think I’d like to see you in them.”

Rose looked up in surprise. “Me?”

He exhaled. “I don’t... I found you that night in the street, with all those empty buildings around us, and... forgive me but I can’t quite shake the image of you there. You were out of place there.” _And I am probably completely out of line,_ he added in the privacy of his thought to himself.

Rose was silent for a very long time. She went through the photos again, which by that time he felt the urge to protect. It wasn’t that he was afraid of her damaging them. She had understood what they were about, and he had voiced his artistic desires. He felt very naked.

“It’s just a mad idea. Forget about it,” he said, his voice tense. He reached for the photos, but Rose put her hands on his, stopping him gently but insistently.

“I haven’t said no, have I?”

“Rose, please. I shouldn’t have shown you these.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said. She curled her fingers around his hand. “I really am.”

He just stared at her.

“I’d be honoured to work with you,” she said.

“But...” he began. “You don’t even know what it is I’m after.”

“I don’t need to. I trust you,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier.”

“It seemed to me you needed a good cry,” Dave said, unusually bold at discussing matters of the heart. He was very reluctant to discuss his inner life because whenever he had opened up to Michelle, she had started to explain his emotions away as if they were some minor complication. At the beginning he’d not allowed her to brush him off, but eventually he had learned that apparently he wasn’t entitled to discuss his feelings with her and he had given up. Over time he had learned to keep them to himself, and he’d turned to photography to vent his feelings.

“I did, yeah,” Rose said thoughtfully. She was playing with a loose lock of hair. Her gaze was still on the photos, as if she were making her mind up. “I like you, Dave. A lot. And... I think you need to know a couple of things about me before we take this... any further.”

A shiver ran down Dave’s spine. That sounded ominous and he wasn’t sure if he was up to her story, but he also wanted to understand her. And he definitely wanted to take this further. His heart was thumping in his chest. Rose was still interested in him. “Let’s sit down,” he said softly, gesturing at the sofas.

Rose sat down, fidgeting nervously. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen before. She always seemed so self-confident. He reached out to take her hand. The touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through him, accompanied by a flash of panic that he’d reject her.

His eyes went wide. That last feeling wasn’t his.

“I’m sorry!” Rose hurried to say, horrified. “Please, don’t be scared.”

It took him a few blinks to find the words for his thoughts. That flash of panic had been hers. “What... happened?” She tightened her grip around his hand as he wanted to let go of her in his bewilderment.

“I am a low-level telepath,” Rose said. “If I touch someone I can sometimes feel what they feel, and I can make them feel what I feel. It’s not supposed to happen, but I’m a little upset now and my control slipped. I’m sorry, Dave. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A low-level telepath,” he repeated dumbly. He’d only ever read of them, or seen them in films.

Rose nodded, her face serious. It was hard to believe, but he had felt her panic. She wasn’t lying to him.

“So that night,” Dave asked, “when I found you in that street — you weren’t upset? I touched you but I didn’t... hear you.”

“Yes, I was, very. But... I can’t explain it. There are so many things I don’t know about it,” she said. “But I do know that you don't have to be afraid of it. I can control it.” There was something else she wanted to say, but she looked away. He took her hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“It’s... How did you...? God, I’m making it sound like it’s a disease,” he chuckled nervously, trailing his fingers over the hills and valleys of her knuckles.

Rose relaxed and laughed. “It’s not, I can assure you. It was a gift,” she said, sobering.

“From the Doctor?” He had no idea where this idea had come from, but it seemed the only logical conclusion. Rose had said he’d put the universe at her feet and burned up a sun for her. He hadn’t paid much attention to these words at the time, but now that she’d revealed her gift to him, he couldn’t help thinking that the Doctor must be a very special man.

“Yeah,” she said.

He took a deep breath and stilled his fingers on her skin. She wasn’t very forthcoming, but at the same time he knew that what she was telling him wasn’t easy for her. It wasn’t easy to make sense of what she had told him.

“Do you trust me, Dave?” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “Aye.”

Rose took a deep breath before she began. “The Doctor isn’t human. He is from a planet called Gallifrey. He has a ship, the TARDIS, with which he can travel in space and time. I travelled with him for a while.”

Dave started when his senses were suddenly flooded by her emotions. It was not entirely uncomfortable, a warmth, like velvet fingers, travelling up his arms. But it was too much to take in. “Please, Rose, don’t... don’t make me feel it. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Yeah, right. ‘m sorry.”

Dave covered her hand with his, looking down at their joined hands. The sensation was gone, and he felt both relieved but also a bit empty. Not a moment ago he’d found her presence in his mind unbearable, and now he was missing it? “So you’re telling me I look like an alien?” he asked, trying to infuse his voice with humour, but the truth was that he was confounded by what she was telling him. But then again, there had been the Cybermen a few years back, and they certainly hadn’t seemed man-made. A shiver ran down his spine.

“No, he looks human, but he’s different. He’s over nine-hundred years old and he as two hearts.”

He nodded.

“But as I said, the two of you are completely different. You feel different,” Rose said. “You see, his body temperature is lower than ours, and he’s always tense with energy. You are warm and solid and calm.”

He smiled feebly. “That’s good to hear.”

She had travelled through space and time with an alien.

“What was it like? Travelling with him?” he asked when she went silent for a moment, her thoughts turning inwards.

“It was a mad rush most of the time. It was exhilarating, beautiful, terrifying, humbling... I could go on like this for a while,” she said.

“He isn’t dead, is he?” he asked. She’d been using the present tense when she’d described him.

“No.” She ducked her head and made to tug her hand from between his, but he tightened his hold on her. If he let her go now he’d lose her.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“We were separated, and now there’s no way of going back to him. I was trying to when you found me. The... device I was using malfunctioned and... well, you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure there’s no way back to him?” He was horrified for even asking her that but he needed to know if he even stood a chance against that swashbuckling alien. The Doctor had, literally, put the universe and time at her feet. How could he ever hope to compete with him? Suddenly he felt very stupid for showing her the Emptiness Folder.

Rose drew in a shuddering breath. She was fighting tears again, but eventually she looked at him. Her eyes were full. “I can’t go back to him. Ever again. He was right and I didn’t believe him. You know, he used to tell me, early on, to never say never ever. So I tried to get back to him when he told me there was no way this time. I didn’t believe him and I fought until the Dimension Cannon exploded.”

“Dimension Cannon?” he asked, frowning.

Rose held his gaze. “I... the Doctor and I, we are from a different universe. When we were separated, I was brought to this universe, and when the walls between them were sealed up, I was stuck. Forever. And he was on the other side.”

Dave let go of her hands. If her story had sounded fantastic until then, he wasn’t sure what to make of that bombshell she had just dropped. A different universe she’d said. A parallel universe? Did such things exist? Rose took his hand and squeezed it, and for a moment he just felt the warmth of her skin. It was reassuring and very human.

“He burned up a sun for me so we could say good-bye to each other,” Rose finished.

“Rose, I... I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you believe me?”

Strangely enough, he did. “I do, it’s just... so much to take in,” he said. “And I think I have a thousand questions.”

Rose smiled in relief, and it was the most heart-warming thing he had seen all evening. “I’ll be happy to answer all of them.” She paused, then laughed.

“What?” he asked, surprised by her reaction.

“I didn’t think it’d be so easy to tell you all this. That you... would be willing to listen. And believe me.”

He lowered his gaze to their hands and covered them with his free one. “It explains why I’d never heard of you until... So... what about Peter Tyler? Your name is Tyler, isn’t it?”

Rose laughed softly. “Yeah, it is. Pete isn’t my real Dad, however. He adopted me when Mum and me came to this universe.”

Dave stared. “Your Mum... didn’t she, back when the Cybermen...?”

“That was this universe’s Jackie Tyler. It’s a long story,” she said.

“I’d like to hear it, please,” he said softly.

He went to the fridge and got out two fresh bottles of beer, and after he’d passed her one, she made herself comfortable on the sofa. It was getting a bit cold, so he fetched a blanket for her. For a moment he toyed with the idea of moving this somewhere more cosy, but he was afraid of breaking the spell, of giving Rose too much time to think things over and decide that she didn’t want to tell him all these things after all.

After he had draped the blanket over her legs, he settled down and Rose began to tell him how she and her mother had come to this universe.

“The empty rooms,” he said after she had finished, “they are like the Rift Chamber, aren’t they?” He had peeled the label off his bottle and there was a pile of pellets on the wide armrest of the sofa.

Rose sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Don’t be. I’m very glad I could tell this story to someone who wasn’t part of it,” Rose said.

He smiled shyly.

“I still want to work with you,” Rose said. “If you’ll have me.”

Dave nodded, relief travelling pleasantly down his back and pooling warmly in his stomach. “I’d love that.” At the same time, however, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever be able to live up to the Doctor. The image he had gotten of the time-travelling alien was intimidating, but at the same time, Rose had managed to portray him as a very lonely man, who loved her dearly although he hadn’t known how to tell her. Also, the idea that the Doctor looked like him, just an ordinary bloke from Earth, was puzzling. Rose had assured him that he was nothing like the Doctor at all, and he wondered what she was doing here, sitting on his sofa, telling him all this. He realized that his similarity to the Doctor was the catalyst for her being able to open up to someone; to talk about her loss. But he couldn’t help wondering where that left him. He certainly didn’t want to compete with this god-like, two-hearted man from another planet. The Doctor had taken her to planets and to all kinds of historic events. He couldn’t possibly offer her any of that.

“Dave?” she said softly, reaching out to him, her fingertips brushing against his hand where it lay on the armrest. “Say something.”

“I think we should call it a day. I’ll have to get back home to relieve the babysitters,” he said.

“Babysitters?”

“My sister-in-law and her husband are over at mine,” he said. “They’ll be wanting to go home, I reckon.”

“I’m sorry, you should have said. I shouldn’t have monopolised you like this,” Rose said, embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t have let you if I didn’t want you to,” he said. “I feel rude for kicking you out like this.”

“No, it’s late anyway. Thank you for listening to me. And for the photos. They mean a lot to me.”

He smiled.

“You will call me about the empty room photo shoot, won’t you?”

His smile widened. “Aye.” They stood and he showed her to the door, carrying the folder with the photos from the charity event for her.

“Just let me know when you have an idea of what you’d like me to do.”

“Rose,” he said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Thank you for listening to me,” she said. She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek. The gesture startled him, and again pleasure washed over him.

“Bye,” he squeaked, passing her the folder.

After she left, he slumped onto the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. Even after a while of staring into the rafters he had no idea what had hit him that evening. Eventually, he stood, grabbing his sketch book and pencil case from his desk, and picked up the Emptiness Folder. It was getting late and he needed to get home so Anna and Robin could enjoy the rest of the evening. He had told them he was at footie practice. After he put the children to bed he’d work on some sketches for the ideas he had. If he wanted this to work, he needed to be well-prepared. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted perfection from their loss., even if his seemed nothing compared to what she had gone through.

Rose definitely was not of this world.

With that thought and a smile, he left the studio and rode his bike home.


	12. Chapter 12

Rose had fanned out the photos of her on the floor in the lounge. She was sitting on the sofa gazing down on them. Dave had captured a side of her on her birthday that very few people bothered to see, and he had been undeterred by it. If she were a cynic she’d say he had come too close, but she was grateful he had. She was even more grateful that he had given these photos to her. Just how she was going to thank him for his kindness she had no idea. Maybe the project she had agreed to work on with him was a start.

She appreciated that he had taken a leap of faith when he had showed her the _Emptiness Folder_. He certainly had shown her more of himself in the beautiful, haunting prints than she had shown him of her at the charity event. They hadn’t known each other very long, but already he had learned how to read her. He deserved to hear her story.

His calm reaction had baffled her. It wasn’t that she had underestimated him, it was just that his willingness to hear her out was unexpected, particularly after she had made the unforgivable mistake of dropping her guard around him. The gift had scared her mother to death when she’d first told her about it. Even Jackie, who had become used to weird things since she’d started travelling with the Doctor, was scared to death by her gift. Dave’s acceptance of her story had been reassuring, but now she wondered if, given time to mull things over, he’d find that she was a freak and not someone he would like to be with.

The urge to call him was powerful but she decided to wait for him to make the next move.

It was only then that she realised that she hadn’t told him that she would love to have him work for the Heritage Trust Fund.

She also wondered how much else she was going to tell him about herself, about Torchwood.

 _He needs time_ , Rose thought, _give him some time. It was a lot to take in._

As she got ready for bed she found her thoughts returning to the photos in the _Emptiness Folder_. They were indeed haunting. The empty rooms were very much like him, but he had been surprised when she had told him about the windows and light that were featured in all of them. She had been looking for a way of explaining her feelings for a long time, and when she saw the photos she felt, for the first time since Bad Wolf Bay, that someone understood her. She’d often tried to find a way of describing the loss she felt, but she wasn’t artistic and had always felt at a loss for words when she tried. Gymnastics and dancing had offered an outlet when she was a teenager. Running with the Doctor was much the same, but all that had come to a crashing halt when she fell through the Void.

And now Dave had asked her to work on the project with him.

Excitement, as well as a touch of trepidation, filled her at the idea. This was a very personal project, made to fight their demons. It was going to be very challenging and emotionally exhausting but she knew that she — they — had to do it to overcome their grief. They would be mourning their loss anew but she hoped that embracing life would be a bit easier afterwards. He had said something about his ideas being very daring and she had agreed straight away, without even knowing what he was up to. Daring was what she needed. She needed to push herself to the limit to get back her equilibrium. She trusted him because it would be no less harrowing for him.

-:-

“We’re moving away,” Michelle said, flicking her flaming hair back casually, in the way she knew used to distract him. Dave, however, hadn’t fallen for the gesture in a long time.

“You... what?”

“We’re moving to Belfast. Paul was offered a managing position there,” she said, mildly surprised at his composure. He was amazed by his calm. It was as if the effects of Rose’s confession and the fantastic things she had told him hadn’t worn off yet. He had spent the day mulling things over, and he felt somehow disconnected. She had told him her story so vividly that he felt as if he had been there himself and had only just returned, finding it hard to adjust to real life. Rose had travelled in time and space, in a parallel universe.

Michelle was moving away.

“We?” he asked, focusing on her.

“Tanya and Sam are coming with us. She’s starting college in September.”

Dave felt the air rush out of his lungs and he sat heavily on the kitchen bench. Sam, who had abandoned his game with Evie in the lounge, scrambled towards him and Dave picked him up and sat him on his lap. He needed someone to hold on to as the world came crashing down around him once more. Anna had sounded ominous when she had told him the previous night that Michelle had called, but he hadn’t paid her too much heed because she’d never tried to hide her dislike for his ex-wife, particularly after Rita’s death.

“I’d meant to tell you but then the accident happened,” Michelle said.

Dave just stared at her, not knowing what to say. “That’s...”

“Dave,” she began in that way that told him she was spoiling for a fight. He didn’t want to fight, but he certainly didn’t want to accept her decision without giving her a piece of his mind.

“What happened to Tanya being my child as well?” he asked evenly so as not to upset Sam who had picked up his crayons and started to fill in a clown in his colouring book. “Don’t I get to have a say? What about Sam?” He tightened his hold on the little boy who promptly started to squirm in discomfort. Dave dropped a placating kiss on his grandson’s blond head and loosened his grip around his middle.

“You haven’t really been a part of our lives,” Michelle said.

“It’s not as if I didn’t want to,” he scoffed. After the divorce Michelle would have been happy to have him out of their lives entirely. “I was good enough to be there for Tanya when she was too scared to go to you.” It had been Rita and he that Tanya had turned to when she feared she might be pregnant. She’d been too scared to go to Michelle and she’d moved in with them for a few weeks. He and Tanya had developed a strong bond as they answered her questions about being a parent and supported her.

“Don’t start like this,” Michelle hissed. “I’ve put your needs first since Rita died.”

Dave turned his attention to Sam, picking up some of the crayons that had rolled out of the boy’s reach. He was grateful for Michelle’s help but he should have known that it would come with a price tag. “Is this about getting even?” he asked, briefly looking up. He could see she was about to shout, so he looked at Sam’s clown. “You’ve missed a bit here, Sam,” he said gently. Sam bent over the book and busily filled in the bit in question. “When are you leaving?” Dave asked, watching the crayon move across the paper, inadvertently slipping over the black lines.

Michelle took a deep breath. “A week from today.”

His anger subsided and gave way to a sinking feeling. Since Rita’s death his family had started to slip through his fingers. Lucy seemed as if she could barely tolerate life in this house. She let him know more often than not that he wasn’t her real father. Instead, she was dreaming of a life in the elegant Edinburgh town house with her rich and successful father. Now he learned that his eldest daughter and his grandson were leaving him as well. He kissed Sam again, then lifted him to sit on his hip as he rose. “I think you’d better go now,” he said, his chest tight. “I have an appointment.”

He handed Sam over to Michelle.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? Drop to my knees, begging you not to leave?” he asked dejectedly.

“Well, good luck is customary, I believe. Or goodbye.”

“Goodbye then,” he said, squaring his jaw, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Michelle just stared at him, and Sam looked from her to him and back in bewilderment.

That was when Evie joined them to see where Sam had gone, and she looked askance at them when she realised that Michelle and Sam were ready to leave. “Say bye to Sam and Michelle,” Dave instructed her with false cheer. Evie did as she was told, and when he closed the door behind his ex-wife and grandson he bent to pick up Evie. He needed a cuddle right now, and Evie, sensing his need, wrapped her arms around him.

“Did you fight with Michelle?” she asked.

“Aye, a bit,” he sighed, kissing her cheek. “What say we see what’s for dinner?”

“All right,” she said, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. If only she’d always stay like this, he thought wistfully as he carried her to the counter where he sat her down so she could see what was in the fridge.

The children were more than a bit shaken by the news of Tanya and Sam moving to Belfast. Dave was glad that he had waited until after dinner to tell them. He was sure that they wouldn’t have eaten a single bite if he’d told them before. Although Tanya didn’t live with them they considered her their big sister, even Ewan who had always made it a point to let Lucy know she was only his half-sister. So it was much to Dave's surprise that Ewan turned to him first to offer him comfort after he had done the dishes. It was Paul’s turn to dry them, so Ewan came to find him in the lounge where he was sat at the piano, trailing his fingers over the keys, his lap full of cuddly toys.

“Dad?”

“Aye?” he looked up, braving himself for Ewan’s needs. Ewan wrapped his arms around him and hugged him close. The toys tumbled to the floor as Dave returned the gesture, and he noticed after a while that Ewan was shaking ever so slightly. Ewan had never showed his feelings after he had cried in the teachers’ lounge the day Rita had died. Instead, he had been careless when playing and had even hurt his ankle. Dave had been shocked when he had realised that his boy sought physical pain to feel something different for a change, but of course Ewan hadn’t admitted to it.

“Is Lucy going to leave us as well?” Ewan asked eventually, loosening his grip around him but not quite ready to let go.

Dave sighed. Trust Ewan to find a sore spot. “I’m not sure. She might though.”

“I want Mum,” Ewan whispered close to sobbing. “I miss her all the time.”

“I know,” Dave said, pulling him towards him, but Ewan resisted. It was hard not to take this personally, not when he felt like the world’s shittiest father for allowing his children to drift away from him. Coming to him had been a huge step for Ewan. Of all his children, he was the most inaccessible one. “It’s okay to miss her. I miss her every day. If it gets too much just tell me, right?”

Ewan leaned against the armrest of the sofa and ducked his head. He was still sniffling but he wouldn’t accept any physical comfort. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“What time’s that game of yours against Stirling?” Dave asked.

“At six,” he replied.

“Right,” Dave said, making a mental note to leave the studio early enough the next day. It occurred to him then that he’d have to take Evie and Paul to the game because he could hardly ask Anna and Robin to babysit for him again. He’d have to find a way of taking care of the children when he was at work. Although he had the luxury of setting the time for appointments he knew there was a limit to what he could ask of clients. If he were to accept gigs like the charity event or the photo shoots for the Heritage Trust Fund he’d need someone to look after the children. He was already asking too much of Anna and Robin. He rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Can I watch a film?” Ewan asked.

“No, not tonight,” Dave said. “I want you to keep reading your book.” Rita had made him keep a reading diary to counterbalance his obsession with football. It was hard to ask Ewan to do that now, it felt unfair, but he realised a couple of weeks ago that he needed to keep the children’s routine as stable as possible, and he couldn’t give up on it so quickly. The routine reassured them and gave them something to anchor themselves to — he knew it helped him.

Ewan grumbled but he went upstairs without really protesting. Dave sighed and bent to pick up the stuffed animals he had dropped earlier.

Later, after he had put the children to bed, he sank onto the sofa, his sketchpad on his knees. He reviewed the sketches he had done the previous night. Rose would never agree to this, and he wouldn’t blame her. She was naked in most of the sketches. Dave blushed when he realised that one might reduce this to his physical attraction to her. While it was there, quite undeniably, it wasn’t what had guided his pencil. The feeling of emptiness came with vulnerability. There was nothing like bare skin to represent vulnerability, and while he still liked his ideas he wondered if maybe he could come up with a better metaphor — and a way that wouldn’t scare Rose off immediately. Maybe he could just hint at nakedness; sometimes less was more. Perhaps he’d even find a way of getting the idea of her being a low-level telepath across.

Of all the things she had told him, this fact had thrown him most. He had felt her, which was why he had trusted her to tell the truth. But it also came with an ugly thought. He knew he was prone to being manipulated. Michelle had taken advantage of him, and even Rita had done it. Rose seemed to know human nature very well; what if she had picked up on this character trait and had ensured, by accidentally slipping into his mind, that he would believe her?

He snapped the book shut around the pencil and tossed it onto the seat beside him. He had to admit that he wasn’t sure he would have believed her so readily if it hadn’t been for that mental touch. But even if she hadn’t lost control he knew he would believe her. The story about the dimension cannon explained why he had found her in the street that night, and her grief over the Doctor was real. No one could act that well, not even a Sean McDonald, who had won three successive Oscars. Her reaction had been genuine. And if he was honest with himself, he just didn’t think that Rose was the kind of woman to manipulate people.

Ashamed of himself, he bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He was such a mess.

He picked up his sketchbook but he was unable to concentrate. In a parallel universe his twin was a powerful alien being with two hearts who had time and the universe at his fingertips. Rose had travelled with him until the Cybermen and the _Daleks_ had put an end to it and she had ended up in his universe, thanks to Peter Tyler’s quick thinking. He had saved her life. Until then she had never appeared in the media. It all made perfect sense, and his shame made his ears burn as he realised that she had been completely honest with him.

She hadn’t told him how she had become a telepath. How did she control it? Why hadn’t they connected the night when he had found her? Did she receive training in how to control her thoughts or had the Doctor just left her to it? Was there a way he could keep her out of his thoughts?

She already had stolen his heart. There was no denying it now.

Was he betraying Rita by falling for Rose so hard and so fast?


	13. Chapter 13

“I owe you lunch. Or dinner. Whatever you prefer,” Dominic said without preamble as Rose answered the call.

“You do?” she asked, dumbstruck. She recognised his distinctive, deep voice immediately. She hated being caught unawares, and for a moment she was afraid her temper would flare.

“We were quite rudely interrupted, and I am sorry for that,” Dominic said.

“It comes with the job, so don’t worry,” Rose replied.

“Speaking of which, I suppose I owe you an answer as well,” he said, his voice a low purr. “But that’s best discussed in person. Are you free tomorrow, for lunch?”

Of course she was. Since they weren’t officially in business yet, and most of the red tape had been dealt with, all they needed to arrange was for the construction workers to move in, some of which were Torchwood’s own anyway. “Yes, I am,” Rose said.

They arranged to meet at Tony’s; she made it a point not to go where she’d met Dave the first time. The waitress had been awkward, and besides... meeting Dave there had been a personal thing. Tony’s offered the chance to go to the Priory afterwards to discuss the infirmary. If Dominic accepted their offer.

The next day Dominic greeted Rose with an awkward kiss to the cheek. Bertie, the owner, gave them the table in the corner where she and the boys had sat before. He already considered them regulars and offered them all the privileges that came with that status, including his absolute discretion. Warm bread, olive oil and a bottle of water appeared on their table along with the daily specials menu.

“I have a couple of questions before I give you my answer,” Dominic said after Bertie had taken their order.

“Fire away,” Rose said. Dominic was going to say yes, no matter her answers. She’d felt it when he’d kissed her. Sometimes she was really grateful for the TARDIS’s gift, but she needed to learn how to control it better. The doors of her mind needed a good lock, and she’d have to teach Dave how to close doors on her — if they ever got that far, that was. Mickey and Jake had mastered the skill of shutting her out quite well.

“I can’t work by myself. I need a nurse, and maybe a lab rat. You’d benefit from a professional lab rat,” he said.

Her father’s words came to mind; the more locals who worked in the Priory the better. “We’d need to clear them first, but basically, we’d assumed you’d want to recommend staff,” Rose said, pouring some of the thick green oil onto a slice of bread. The bread wasn’t salted and so the flavour of the rich oil was at its best as it washed over her tongue.

“I’d like to examine each of you myself. I need to get to know you as patients. The better I know you, the better I’ll be able to help you, particularly since you have some... unique abilities,” Dominic said.

Rose wasn’t happy at the idea of being poked and prodded, nor would the boys be, but she knew that Dominic’s request was reasonable and wise. “I think that can be arranged.”

“What about the equipment for the infirmary? You said I’d get to have a say in it.”

“You will. There will also be some equipment you’re unfamiliar with, but we’ll have someone from London come up here to instruct and train all our medical staff,” Rose said.

If Dominic seemed surprised by her readiness to oblige, he only showed it briefly. He leaned back in his seat and popped a piece of bread into his mouth. The warm bread in combination with the olive oil really was something else. It was another reason why Tony’s had become their favourite haunt. “Yes. I’d like to work for you. Miss Tyler,” he said eventually.

“Welcome to Torchwood then, Doctor Henley,” she said, smiling.

After lunch they went to the Priory. The deeds had come through in record time (they chalked it up to the church being glad to be rid of the property) so when Rose and Dominic went on the grand tour they could already make plans for the infirmary. Rose was impressed by how much thought Dominic had put into the project. Starting off the blueprints in her office, they had a look at the premises and made a list of things he required and several quick sketches of changes that needed to be made to the floor plan to accommodate the infirmary. By the time they were finished, Dominic was a bit nervous by the volume of notes Rose had taken on her clipboard.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’ll get what you need,” she said. She really liked his ideas. The infirmary was to overlook the river and had access to the gardens. The lab and morgue would be housed in the vaulted basement, and the operating theatre as well as radiology were to be in windowless rooms at the heart of the Priory. The whole hospital wing, as they’d come to call it, would seal itself off in case of an emergency, with independent power, water and air supply.

“You’re very well-prepared,” Rose said as they were sitting in her office, nursing a cup of tea.

“Take it as a compliment. I knew as soon as you asked me that I’d say yes,” he admitted.

“I did too,” Rose said, grinning at him.

He looked a bit surprised at that, but quickly covered it up. “What about the nurse and the lab rat?”

“Just jot down their names, we’ll get in touch with them,” Rose said.

Dominic wrote down two names and passed the notepad to Rose. “I suppose signing the contract will put a stop to me asking you out, won’t it? Today was strictly business,” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” Rose said, glad that he was such a professional. “Which doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends. Mickey, Jake and I are very close. The better we know each other, the better we’ll work together.”

Dominic nodded. “You’re very honest.”

“No one deserves to be lied to, least of all in matters of the heart,” Rose said.

“I appreciate that.”

-:-

In the next couple of days Rose tried to distract herself from wondering about Dave by concentrating on the plans for the Priory and her home. She dragged the mattress and her bedding from her bedroom to one of the empty rooms and pushed the heavy four-poster bed into the centre of the room. After she’d covered the floor and part of the bed with plastic sheeting she started to paint the wall behind the headboard in the warm shade of grey she had put together at the DIY shop. For a moment she’d been tempted to buy a deep blue, but she’d decided against it. If need be she’d buy lots of blue accessories, like a duvet and pillowcases.

She got the knack of painting the wall very quickly, and when she was halfway done, her phone chirped. Sighing at the interruption, she climbed down the ladder to check the caller ID. It was the ring tone she had assigned to the number on her business card, so hopefully, that was a good sign. The last thing she needed now was a major interruption.

It was Dave’s number.

Her heart sped up as she tapped the mobile to accept the call. “Hi.”

“Hello, Rose,” he said, surprised that she’d picked up. “I have some sketches for the _Emptiness Folder_. And I was wondering about the shoot for the brochure.”

“You still want to do that? The empty rooms shoot, I mean?” Rose asked. Each day that passed with no word from Dave fortified her to accept that he’d call the entire project off.

“If you’re still up to it, yes,” he said.

“I’d love to.”

“I have a cancellation this afternoon, and I was wondering if you were free?”

“Would you mind coming to my place? I could show you some of my empty rooms,” Rose said, biting her lip after she was finished. She was afraid she’d sounded a bit too eager.

“Sure,” he replied. Rose waited, her heart still pounding, for him to find a pen and paper and to scribble down her address.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments after he had rung off. He hadn’t mentioned her confession at all, which was good. It wasn’t something you discussed over the phone. She had been worried that he’d be scared by the fact that she was a telepath, particularly after what she had done to him by accident. Slipping into someone else’s mind unbidden was the worst thing she could do, even if she hadn’t meant to. When the Doctor had done it to her the first time to teach her how to deal with her ability, she had been terrified. She really needed to practise the techniques the Doctor had showed her so she could control the ability. Until then it would be more of a curse than a gift..

She’d have to find a way to make it clear to Dave that she hadn’t meant to slip inside his mind like that, and that she certainly hadn’t done it so he’d believe her story. When she’d been to the cinema with Tony she hadn’t returned her 3D goggles. If she could find them, he’d be able to see the Void Stuff that still surrounded her. Hopefully that would help him understand what had happened.

She stared at the white and grey wall. The colour was great, no matter what her mum had said. With the right light fixtures and some framed pictures the wall would look spectacular. She needed to close the door on the Lever Room once and for all. It wasn’t so much because she wanted to forget; it was so she could move on. The Doctor had left his mark on her and on her life; she’d never be able to forget him, nor did she want to. But if she wanted to be happy she needed to move on, and that was exactly what he would have wanted for her. After all these years it was time to run again.

After a while Rose remembered the time and that she needed to finish painting the wall before Dave arrived. It wouldn’t do to create ugly edges by interrupting her work. The colour had started to dry already, and she was lucky that it wasn’t too late yet. She climbed the ladder and started to paint the wall.

She was nearly finished when a sharp knock on her front door roused her from her thoughts. The regularity of the movement had helped empty her mind so well that she’d completely forgotten about time and Dave.

“Shit!” she muttered, putting the brush aside with great care. She hastily wiped her hands on an old towel before she hurried downstairs. She’d wanted to take a shower and change before he arrived, but that was out of the question now.

Rose opened the door for him in her baggy T-shirt and a pair of paint-stained leggings. “Hello, Dave. Come in.”

He hesitated briefly. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Ah, no. I... lost track of time. I thought I’d be finished by now,” she said. “It’s my bad.”

“Are you painting?” he asked.

“Yes, the bedroom needed a bit of colour,” she said, stepping aside to let him enter.

“Grey?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“What?”

He pointed at her forehead. She’d brushed her fingers over it earlier to get rid of a few hairs and they must have left a lovely smear. “Grey. You’re painting your bedroom grey?”

“It looks lovely!” she protested. Why did everyone seem to be so horrified at the idea? “Come and see for yourself.”

Dave toed off his boots and dropped his bag next to them. Then he followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. The floorboards creaked beneath their combined weight as they stepped into her bright room. The grey looked even warmer with the afternoon sun on it. Dave, however, didn’t seem convinced. Why did his opinion mean so much to her? “It’ll look lovely once it’s finished,” she added feebly, brushing past him to pick up the brush and finish the job.

“Do you have another?” he asked.

“What?” she asked, surprised. When she turned around to look at him, he was pulling his jumper over his head, offering her a peek at a sliver of his pale skin as he accidentally untucked his vest. She couldn’t help staring at his exposed stomach, and quickly averted her eyes as he draped his jumper over the foot board of her bed and brushed his hair back. This brief glimpse of his skin had done things to her.

“A brush. I’d like to help you. If that’s okay,” he said, rousing her from her thoughts. Rose couldn’t help blushing a little.

“Um, yeah. There must be one next door,” she squeaked in surprise. Stunned, she watched him disappear, He couldn’t seriously be offering to help paint her bedroom.

“You don’t need to do this,” she protested as he returned with a new brush.

“I’ve been meaning to redo the kitchen for ages. Maybe helping you will help me work up an appetite,” he said, shrugging.

“Then I won’t keep you,” she said.

Together, they made quick progress until they had to work so closely side by side that the inevitable happened and Dave tripped over her, bracing himself with his left hand on the wet paint only to push himself away and hit the white wall in the corner. A perfect print of his left hand adorned the wall.

“ _Keech!_ ” He stared at his hand print in horror. “I’m so sorry, Rose. I should have told you I’m useless.”

“Why?” Rose asked, dragging her right palm over her own brush. She then pressed her hand next to his on the wall, her thumb facing his. “I quite like the idea.” She knelt next to him on the plastic sheet, smiling at his expression of surprise and horror. Eventually, however, he began to smile.

“You can always repaint the wall,” he offered, looking at their hands, his left one and her right, on the wall beside each other.

“No, I’m serious. I don’t want them removed,” she said, her smile fading so he’d believe her.

He looked at her in disbelief. “It’s your bedroom.”

“Yes. Doesn’t happen often that I invite a gent round here the first time he comes to see me, so consider yourself honoured,” she offered, half-serious.

“I do,” he said.

“I enjoyed working with you,” she said. “I usually don’t ask my visitors to help me with my home improvement chores.”

“I offered,” he pointed out.

“That you did.”

When had she gotten so close to him? Their faces were only inches apart. His eyes flitted nervously from side to side as he looked at her, trying to understand her. Dave was waiting for her to make the next move. He had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen; they lacked the gravitas of a Time Lord’s eyes. Rose cupped his cheek with her right hand and after a moment she leaned in to kiss him. It was just a quick brush of her lips against his. His bottom lip was just irresistible. She kissed him again, and as her lips lingered on his he returned the gesture tentatively for a moment.

His damp hand covered hers on his cheek and his gaze darkened, ready to pluck her paint-covered hand from his face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“I liked it,” he said softly, pressing her hand to his cheek.

Rose lowered her gaze. Her heart was hammering in her chest. This had happened far too soon. Why on Earth did she keep catching both of them unawares like this? “Let’s finish this, yeah?”

She pulled her hand out from beneath his and took a deep breath as she turned away from him to concentrate on the painting again. This time, they were extra careful, the easy companionship of their earlier work gone now that awkwardness ensued over the kiss. What had gotten into her? The man was in mourning, he had offered her his help, and she repaid him by taking advantage of him.

“There’s a bit of paint,” she said when they had finished, pointing at the side of his face. A nearly perfect print of her hand was on his cheek.

He brushed his fingertips over it, bringing away only little colour. “It’ll wash off,” he said, his gaze still intense from the intimate moment earlier. “Rose, look at me.”

She braved herself for his words, smiling.

“I’d been hoping you’d want to kiss me,” he said, forcing the words out on the back of one single breath. “I was just a bit surprised.” He laughed. “There, I said it.”

“It’s jus’... so early, right?” Rose answered in surprise. “’s a bit fast.”

“Aye, it probably is,” he said. His eyes became hopeful. “Does that mean that...”

“I’ve told you I’d like to be with you,” Rose said, drawing confidence from his openness. “Let’s just not rush into it, yeah?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right.” He smiled at her, and for a moment Rose forgot to breathe. He was smiling just for her, she realised, a sweet, gentle smile that reflected the sparkle in his eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” Rose said.

-:-

Dave joined her twenty minutes later, fresh from the shower. When she’d kissed him, he’d leaned back against the wall, daubing his hair and the shoulders of his vest. His hair was still wet, and he had pulled on his jumper without a vest; he had rolled it up and Rose took it from him when she spotted it.

“I’ll pop that into the laundry,” she said. The scent of her shower gel on him was distracting, and she lingered a moment before withdrawing from him. The temptation to kiss him again was almost overpowering. She gestured at one of the mugs of tea she had prepared. “Have some tea.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he protested feebly.

“Dave, if we’re to work together, we’ll have to stop this. It’s just the way I am. You give, I take, I give something in return, that’s what makes me tick,” she said. It occurred to her that she shouldn’t need to explain it to him. Had no one ever done something for him in gratitude? When they had talked, she realised, he had listened to her intently, but he hadn’t offered much about himself. His wide-eyed amazement confirmed her suspicion. The women in his life had done nothing but take advantage of him.

“That’s one thing,” Dave said. “I know this is personal, but... I’m not sure I can still work for the Heritage Trust Fund,” he said.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t,” Rose said. It wasn’t as if she’d interfere a lot with his work; she didn’t know much about the art of photography. Her skills were sufficient enough to produce some decent holiday shots and usable footage for cases, but that was about it. “You’ll have to travel and you can decide what part of the site you want to see in the brochure. It’s as simple as that.” When he took the job she wouldn’t see him for a while as he’d be travelling.

“You were thinking of the _Emptiness Folder_ ,” Rose pointed out.

“Aye.”

“Show me your ideas,” Rose said.

He slid off the bar stool he had occupied to get his bag. “I’d love to explain them in more detail to you,” he said. He produced a sketchbook from his bag, along with a couple of small-size prints of the rooms he’d already shown her. Rose took his hand.

“Come on, I need you to see something.”

She dragged him up the stairs to her temporary bedroom. The room was just as bright as her bedroom, facing the garden as well, but it didn’t have anything but her mattress and bedding. There was a reading lamp on the floor, along with a couple of books and her alarm clock. “This is where I sleep these days.”

When he didn’t respond she looked at him and saw a myriad of ideas flit across his face. In that regard he was very much like the Doctor. Rose decided not to say anything so as not to interrupt the flow of his ideas.

“Do you mind if I take a quick snap of it? Just for this project, I promise,” he said, reaching for his phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Feel free,” Rose said. “You know what, explore the house to your heart’s content.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck. “You really mean that.”

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Oh.”

“Lots of empty rooms, but they are nothing like the ones in your photos:” Those were all of abandoned buildings, not of homes that were just waiting for a new family to move in as was the case with her house. Some of them were in bad need of renovation, and some, she assumed were even beyond any form of repair.

“Why do you have such a big place?” Dave asked.

“The TARDIS, the Doctor’s ship, was vast. I got used to it,” Rose said. She realised too late that all he had was probably a very small place. She didn’t know nearly enough about him.

“I’d feel uncomfortable wandering the house by myself,” Dave said, so Rose gave him them the grand tour.

He checked his watch when, eventually, they ended up in the kitchen again. “I’m... I’m sorry I need to go. I’m going to hire an au pair and she’s due at the house in a little bit,” Dave said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, one of my... ah... babysitters, my ex-wife, is moving away and I need someone to look after the house while I’m at work.”

Rose leaned against the counter. Of course, a man like Dave would would have more than one child. The ex-wife came as a surprise, though. A man like Dave was bound to have a past, so she nodded. The ex-wife might account for his reluctance to open up to her.

He looked at her, horrified. “We need to get back some normalcy. I’ve neglected the studio far too much, and I think it’s time to... try to move on.”

“That sounds... good.”

“Ah, I don’t know. My friend Sarah suggested the interview. Apparently, the au pair doesn’t get along with the family she’s currently working for. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“It’s only an interview, right?” Rose asked, shrugging. “Nothing to lose.”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right.”

They went into the hall and he sat on the steps to put on his boots. “We didn’t get to discuss the project.”

“You’ve got a head full of new ideas,” Rose pointed out. “Why not let them simmer a while. And I told you I want to be part of it.”

Dave stood, closing the distance between them. “You mean that, don’t you?”

She looked at him, sorrow clasping her heart on his behalf. “I do.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned down for a kiss.

Then he was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah and Lottie arrived before he had a chance to put on a vest and a shirt. His jumper carried the smell of Rose's shower gel, and for a brief, panicked moment he wondered if Sarah would pick up on the slightly flowery note. The last thing he wanted was to give her the wrong idea, the idea that he was seeing someone so soon after Rita's death. Which he was, in a way, and yet not. He could still feel Rose's lips on his, their seeking pressure, and his senses filled with her scent.

Evie welcomed him with a kiss and a hug, and she whispered, "You smell good, Daddy.”

He flushed. “Ye think?”

Through the frosted pane of the door he saw Sarah's car pull up out front. He let go of Evie to open the door for them. He greeted Sarah with a kiss and held out his hand for Lottie.

“Hello," the young woman said with a warm smile that reached her blue eyes. The most striking thing about her was her fiery red hair, held back by a red paisley headband. Her dreadlocks came down to her shoulders. He looked briefly at Evie to see her reaction. She was smiling broadly at their guest

“Hello. I'm Dave," he managed to say. "And this my youngest, Evie.”

“What's your name?” Evie asked.

“Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lottie,” she said.

“I like your hair!” Evie said. “Can you do mine?”

“Why don't we have a little chat first, hmm?” Dave said, partly relieved that Lottie passed Evie's instant I-like-you test. He gestured for them to go to the lounge, where the other three were already waiting for them. Ewan was reading his book, but when Paul had to nudge him twice to catch his attention it was quite clear that Ewan was really engrossed in the story rather than just dutifully following the plot.

Dave escaped briefly to make tea for them, and Sarah followed him into the kitchen.

“Someone smells good,” she said, getting mugs out of the cupboard.

“I grabbed the wrong bottle,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

“It's not Rita's, though, is it?” Sarah asked.

“What? No... it's the stuff I keep at the studio,” Dave said, wondering when he had mastered the art of lying on demand.

“You go back to the kids, I'll take care of this,” Sarah offered.

Dave nodded in embarrassment at his white lie and hurried back to the lounge. The children had already broken the ice and engaged Lottie in their card game. It was amazing to see that even Ewan, who often seemed so aloof, had joined them. Not surprisingly, Lucy was very quiet. She played with them, but when it wasn't her turn she just observed the goings-on and offered a comment when it seemed safe. More than once, Ewan had hurt her with his words. For the first time it occurred to him that Lucy might actually be afraid of her little brother.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He really wasn't a very good father not to have realised this earlier. Until Rita had died, Lucy had always had her to lean on, and Rita would never have allowed Ewan to treat his sister that way. If Lucy was looking for something different, it was partly his own fault, Dave realised. He should have looked after her better, should have realised what a mess she was.

“Dad, play with us,” Paul said. Trust him to pick up on his mood.

“Aye.” He sat cross-legged on the floor and joined in their game. It was one of their favourites, involving creating a labyrinth and collecting treasure. They hadn't played it since the Saturday before the accident. Eventually, Sarah joined them with the tea, and before she knew it, she was playing too.

Dave studied Lottie over the rim of his cup as he sipped his tea. How had she managed to get all of the kids to play a game together so quickly? Whenever he tried, they’d ask him if they could watch a film or play a different game, but they could never agree on one and they eventually gave up.

He couldn't imagine why she didn't get on with her current family. After a few rounds he asked her to follow him to the kitchen so he could talk to her in private while Sarah continued to play with the children.

“How much has Sarah told you about us?” Dave asked, offering her a seat.

“Everything, I think,” Lottie said. "I'm very sorry about what happened.”

“Yeah, thanks. They can be a handful,he said, looking in the direction of the lounge. "I'm amazed how quickly you related to them.”

“It's just because I'm new,she said, wrapping her fingers around her mug. "It'll wear off in a while.”

“I'm a photographer, so I work at odd hours sometimes,” Dave said. “And I might have to travel a bit. There will always be someone you can contact, of course. And apart from looking after the kids... well, you can see the state of this place. No matter what I do, I can never quite keep up with it all. I... it's just fair that you know what you’re getting yourself into. I'm trying to get back to normal life. The past few weeks have been... well, not easy.”

“I'd be happy to help," Lottie said, smiling, her gaze wandering around the kitchen.

“Really?" Dave squeaked. He hadn't expected finding someone to look after the kids so fast.

She laughed. "Yes.”

“Well, that's... that's fantastic. Thank you.” Dave wanted to hug her, but he opted for a grateful grin instead. "There's a spare room facing the garden. You can have it, but it needs a touch of paint." The fresh memory of painting the wall in Rose's bedroom flashed through his mind and he wondered how sore he would be the next day. He had enjoyed working side by side with her, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was so hard to find the right words sometimes so the fact that he and Rose could be comfortable together without talking was a very new experience for him.

He couldn't believe that he'd already found someone to look after the kids and the house. He felt lighter than he had in a long while, and as Sarah and Lottie left, he hugged both of them.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, flopping down on the sofa. Ewan and Evie came to him for a cuddle while Paul remained kneeling on the floor, propping his head on Ewan's knee. Dave's eyes found Lucy's, but they were as unreadable as ever.

“I like her,” Evie said.

“You like her hair,” Ewan sneered. “She's fun. She's on a girls’ football team.”

“She's a good listener,” Paul said.

“Lucy?”

“I won't be around long enough, will I? What does my opinion matter anyway,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her and slumping back against the cushions. She was, once more, the only occupant of the sofa facing them.

Her younger siblings looked horrified, first at her, then at him, needing him to reassure them. The thing was, he wasn't sure he could. Lucy had made it clear that she was seriously contemplating going to live with the Quinlans in Edinburgh.

Dave disentangled himself from Evie's and Ewan's limbs and scooted to the edge of the seat to stand. "Lucy,” he began.

“Don't do that!" she cried. "Look at you! All piled up on that sofa. All that hugging and your Mum loves you and now that... that German... girl just so you can get on with your life?” Lucy became more furious with every word, and tears of anger started to roll down her cheeks.

Evie was the most horrified of all, seeking his protection.

“I only get half-votes because I'm only half a sibling! No one cares how I feel about Mum's death. I hate her for leaving me like this, I hate her, I hate her!” Her voice cracked over the last words and she broke down sobbing.

“Lucy,” Dave whispered, helpless. To his horror he noticed that Evie had started to cry, and he wrapped his arm around her to soothe her a little. Right now, though, Lucy needed him more. Rose's words echoed in his mind, telling him not to let her push him away.

What she had said about Rita had cut him to the quick. He wanted to yell at her for speaking about her mother in that way, but deep down he had wanted to say the same thing. No matter how much he loved Rita, how much he missed her, there was also this irrational fury at her for leaving them. It wasn't her fault and he was ashamed of himself for having these thoughts, but he couldn't tell Lucy off for saying what was on everyone's mind.

“Would you go upstairs to your rooms. Please?” he said softly, rubbing Evie's back.

“Dad,” Ewan protested.

“Please, Ewan?” he repeated.

“Come on,” Paul said, climbing to his feet.

Lucy, miraculously, hadn't moved from her perch on the edge of the sofa. She had wrapped her arms around herself and was shivering with fury and grief. Paul pulled Ewan and Evie out and into to hall.

Lucy and Dave sat facing each other for a while, Dave helpless and a little frightened of her pushing him away when he tried to console her, but eventually he sat next to her and put his arms around her shoulder. Lucy stiffened at first, and he was ready to withdraw should she want to shake him off. She remained frozen, and eventually, he slid his arm off her shoulder.

“Is that... how you feel about Rita?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” Lucy said eventually.

“I don't blame you,” he said. “But you shouldn't have said that in front of the others.”

Lucy sniffled. "They hate me anyway. What difference does it make?”

“They don't hate you. You’re their big sister,” Dave reminded her.

Lucy snorted.

“They wanted to come with me to pick you up from orchestra,” Dave said, picking up the box that held the card game. He tossed it back onto the table. No distractions now.

“Well, why didn't they?”

“I had to be the one to tell you. I'm your Dad.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her words were crushing him. "I _am_ your Dad. I’ve been with you since you were very wee. I’ve raised you just as much as I have the others.”

“You just felt guilty because you left Tanya.”

Dave blanched and he felt his stomach bottom out. “What?” How dare she say that? He had just told her he loved her and she just threw it away. He did feel guilty for not having been part of Tanya's life for so long; maybe he should have tried harder. But never, not once, had he seen Lucy as a project to make himself feel better. No matter how much joy seeing and helping Lucy grow up had been, he had always wished he could have done the same for Tanya. Every single day. He wished he could tell Lucy all this, but the words remained elusive.

He was too shocked by her words and by her accusations. Besides, she was being so emotional she was beyond reasoning.

“I can't wait for Stuart to pick me up tomorrow. He, at least, wants me.”

“We want you too.”

“You have an odd way of showing that,” Lucy said, and, finally able to move, she jumped to her feet and stormed upstairs, slamming her door closed behind her.

“Lucy?” he could hear Evie ask tentatively in the silence that ensued.

Then he heard Lucy scream in fury, and he broke down himself. Hiding his face in his hands at first, he pressed his hands over his nose and mouth to stifle the sobs. That was it. He had lost Lucy as well. There was no doubt she'd ask Stuart to let her stay, and there was nothing Dave could do about it. Whatever he could have done to comfort Lucy, he had mucked it up and made it even worse. It was his fault.

His body shook with the force of his sobs and his chest hurt as he tried to suppress them.

 _Please let the bairns stay upstairs_ , he thought as he curled up on the sofa, breathless and in need of a cry.

-:-

“What happened?” Stuart asked Dave the next afternoon as he watched Lucy slip into his car without a word. He looked askance at the suitcase and the violin case sitting on the pavement outside Number 5.

“We had a... a big row yesterday. About me being or not being her real Dad, that she hates Rita for dying and that the others hate her,” Dave said, rattling off the facts so he didn't have to dwell on the previous night's events too long. The memories were just too painful. "I couldn't convince her otherwise. She'll ask about staying with you.”

“What?” Stuart asked, paling a little. "That's awful.”

“Aye.”

“Well, maybe she just needs a little time away from it all. I'm sure that she'll calm down eventually. It's all just been a bit much,” Stuart reasoned.

“Yeah, well.” Dave wasn't so confident. He shifted from one foot to the other, pushing his fingers into the pockets of his jeans.

“She talks of you and her siblings all the time when she's with us. The girls would love to meet you all," Stuart offered.

Dave looked up to see if Stuart meant what he was saying. He was a lawyer; they could be very convincing, they needed to. Stuart's eyes softened under his scrutiny, letting him see the sincerity of his words. "You’re probably right. You sure you don't mind having her around for a longer time?”

“No, not at all.”

“I'll talk to the school then,” Dave said.

“Have you heard back from the police yet? About the compensation?” Stuart asked.

“Robin is taking care of it for me. I'm afraid I'm not really very good with all that red tape,” Dave said. His initial resentment over Stuart's firm being involved had worn off when he realised that he wouldn't be involved because it wasn't his area of law. "Thanks for your help.”

“Any time. We'll talk about Lucy on the phone, yeah? I'll keep you updated,” the other dad offered.

“Thanks, thanks.”

Despite himself, Dave waved as Stuart got into his car and pulled away. Maybe Stuart was right and all Lucy needed was some time off. Dave heaved a sigh and went back inside. He had yet to discuss the previous night's events with the kids. Paul had eventually turned up in the lounge with a box of tissues and a small hand rubbing his shoulder. He shouldn't be the one to comfort his father, Dave had thought at the time, but it had felt good. He had pulled Paul into his arms and held him for a long time.

“I'm glad she's gone,” Ewan said to Evie as they went into the kitchen.

“Ewan, enough!”

“But it's true...”

“Enough!” Dave bellowed.

Ewan looked at him wide-eyed.

“That doesn't help, right? Lucy thinks we don't love her, that's why she's gone now,” Dave said. forcing himself to speak calmly. It wouldn't do to yell at his son as well; although he had been careless with his words, a little too open, he hadn't meant any harm. He just hadn't learned yet what tact was about.

“Is she gone forever?” Evie asked. "Like Sam and Tanya?”

Dave sighed. He didn't want to lie to them, but neither did he want to make things worse. "I don't know. I certainly hope not. She just... needs some time to herself.”

“I don't want her to go,” Evie said, her voice betraying how upset she was.

“I don't want her to go either,” Dave said. "I love her just as much as I love you, right? Ewan?”

“But you’re not her Dad,” he pointed out, and for the first time Dave realised that Ewan didn't understand the way he felt about Lucy.

“Come on, all of you, let's have a wee sit down,” Dave said, ushering them into the lounge. He made them sit on the sofa and pushed the coffee table away so he could crouch before them. "I am your Dad because Rita and I wanted to have you. When I first met Rita, she'd already had Lucy.”

“With Stuart,” Evie pointed out.

Dave smiled. "Yes. But you see, I forgot about that because I really liked Lucy, and then I loved her and I felt like her Dad. I still do.”

“I don't understand,” Ewan said. “Why did she say all those things?”

Dave scrubbed his hand over his face. “She is very sad about losing Rita. She feels a bit lost because she'd only ever known one of her birth parents, and now Rita's gone. So now she's trying to find that sense of belonging somewhere with her birth dad.”

“But she's our sister,” Ewan pointed out. “We have the same mum, isn't that just as important?”

Dave sighed. “Not if someone keeps telling her that she's only a half-sister,” he said softly.

Ewan pursed his lips and ducked his head. Evie reached out for his shoulder. "I didn't mean it,” he mumbled.

“Of course you didn't. But Lucy is trying to find out who she is, and...”

“She's Lucy. She's our sister,” Ewan pointed out again, looking up.

“It's not as simple as that, Ewan. You'll see when you’re fifteen... or hopefully not.”

“So it's my fault she left?” he asked, tears pooling in his eyes.

Dave rocked forward to kneel in front of the sofa. “No, no, it's not your fault. Look at me,” Dave said, cupping the back of his son's head. Ewan looked at him with rapidly tearing eyes. "It's good for her she's gone. She needs some time away to sort through her thoughts. It was just too much.”

“Is that why you cried last night?” Evie asked softly.

Dave's heart broke. He had hoped that Ewan and Evie hadn't heard him. He needed to be strong for them because they needed him to lean on. "In a way, yes. But that doesn't mean I don't love you all _very_ much. I love you so much, you hear? All of you.” He turned to look at the door where Paul was standing. "Lucy will come back. We'll just have to be patient.”

“I'm sorry, Dad,” Ewan said.

“Aye,” Dave said, dropping a kiss onto his son's forehead. He pulled his children off the sofa to hug them, somehow managing to include Paul as he joined them for a cuddle.


	15. Chapter 15

The house was quiet after Lucy left. Dinner was subdued although he had made their favourite, lasagna, and the kids had retreated to their own rooms soon after. They were very quiet, and when he went upstairs to check on them, he found Ewan and Evie in his room, drawing a poster together. Paul was by himself, reading; his oldest boy looked up briefly from his book and flashed him an encouraging smile. The atmosphere in the house had been very tense in those past weeks, and now that the storm had broken and Lucy had left, it was as if they could breathe again , like after a sudden rainstorm has cleared the air on a hot summer day.

As he went back downstairs he realised how exhausted he was. Ewan and Evie had never been able to play together for any length of time before mayhem of some sort broke out. Seeing them working together so peacefully on a drawing of a crowded, kind of manic, Viking ship was odd to say the least. He wasn’t sure if there wasn’t another storm brewing. But all remained calm.

He went to the newel post where he’d hung his bag to get out his sketch book and the small prints of the empty rooms. He had been so caught up in exploring Rose’s home that, once again, he hadn’t been able to discuss his ideas with her. Slumping on the sofa with a sigh, he wondered if he should still take the job with the Heritage Trust Fund. There was no doubt that they would work on the Emptiness folder together, he really wanted that and so, apparently did she. But if he took work for the Heritage Fund, he’d be away for at least a month travelling between sites, longer if he went to England to work as well. Now that Lucy had left them he felt he needed to be there for the wee ones more than ever. They had been visibly shaken, most of all Ewan, and he didn’t want his family to keep slipping through his fingers. Dave wasn’t sure he would be able to cope with losing them, of them wanting to get away because they didn’t feel loved any more.

They had welcomed Lottie with open arms and they were eager to redecorate the room for her. Still Dave couldn’t help wondering what would happen if they suddenly decided that he had only hired Lottie so he could be away from home. He was sure that they would understand that he needed to work, but there might be an undercurrent of him wanting to get away from them. Or was he projecting his own feelings onto them? Did he want to get away from it all?

The thought filled him with shame and terror. He loved his children, but sometimes it was a bit much without Rita by his side, and he’d already managed to drive Lucy out of the house. What could he have done to make her stay? He’d do anything to keep her. If she decided to want to live with Stuart permanently, he knew he didn’t stand a chance in court. After all, Stuart was her natural father.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts and he started. He wasn’t expecting anyone so late, and he had already locked up for the night. Putting the neglected sketchbook aside, he stood and went to the door. It was Sarah.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said, stepping aside to let her enter. Although the day had been mild, the night was cold and he regretted making her wait for as long as he had. Her cheek was cold as he kissed her.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked a little flustered.

“No.”

“Evie told me what happened after we left yesterday and I wanted to see if you’re all right. I’m sorry, I should have called.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, taking her coat. “Can I offer you something to warm up?”

“Have you got any wine?”

“Sure.” He preceded her into the kitchen, where he found the corkscrew in a drawer and got a bottle of wine from the shelf. He had started to keep the shelf well-stocked as he had learned to appreciate the taste of wine again. Rita had been more of a beer drinker so they had kept only a few bottles on hand for when they had guests.

“Dave? Is something wrong?”

He turned around, peeling the aluminium wrapping off the top of the bottle.

Sarah looked at the shelf. “You’ve gone back to drinking wine.”

“Aye.”

“Don’t feel guilty for that, Dave.”

He managed to smile but it felt more like a grimace to him. “Am I changing too much too soon, Sarah?”

“You mean Lottie? Needing to go back to work full-time?” Sarah asked, leaning against the table, watching him twist the corkscrew into the cork and pull it out, using the lever of the professional corkscrew Rita had given him for his birthday years ago. The cork came free with a satisfying pop. Dave used a paper towel to clean any bits of cork from the inside of the neck before he poured himself a bit to make sure the wine was good. Then he filled a glass for her and topped his own off.

They took their glasses to the lounge, where they each settled in one corner of the old sofa. “Evie was over the moon about Lottie moving in.”

“I’m more worried about Ewan,” Dave said, clinking the rim of his glass to hers. “He and Lucy, they take after Rita a lot.” He told her what had happened between sips of the rich, dark wine. “The thing is, they never learned to communicate their feelings. Rita always kept things close to her heart, and I never... I never encouraged them to talk because... Well, because I was busy or didn’t want to upset Rita. I didn’t want to interfere with her ideas of raising the kids too much.”

Sarah was quiet for a while. “I still think you’re a great dad. You’ve always managed to calm everyone down when there was a fight. It was one thing Rita loved so much about you, the fact that in many ways you were her opposite.”

When he smiled this time, it was genuine. “D’ye think?”

“Yeah. I also think that letting Lucy go was a very brave thing to do.”

They sipped their wine. Dave wasn’t convinced. Letting Lucy leave was more of a failure in his book. “I’m terrified of losing her, Sarah. If she decides to live with the Quinlans I won’t stand a chance. I’m not even sure I want to take this to court when...” His voice broke and he pinched his nose. It was pathetic, really, how easily the tears came these days. He didn’t want the trauma of a legal battle for Lucy. If he won, which he thought very unlikely, she’d resent him for it forever.

“You know what she told me?” Dave continued, curling his fingers in front of his mouth. It was almost too painful to repeat her words. “She told me she hates Rita for leaving her like this. And you know what’s worst? It’s exactly what I think sometimes. I’d look at her picture and... I’m so torn between hating her and missing her. It’s... I hurt so much.”

The tears were uncontrollable once more, but unlike the previous night, they coursed down his cheeks quietly. Sarah’s eyes were watery as well, and he put down his glass to scoot closer to her for physical comfort. Before they knew it, they were in each other’s arms.

“I know. I feel the same,” Sarah said softly, her fingers in his hair as he rested his head on her shoulder. “It’s scary and it makes you feel ashamed, but it’s normal.”

He took her hand and squeezed it in gratitude.

“I’ve been offered a job with the Heritage Trust Fund,” Dave said after a while.

“You have?”

He shifted away from her and reached for his glass. They moved around a little to make themselves comfortable now that he was sitting closer to her, and they ended up with Sarah’s shins pressed against his thigh. It was close but not too close for comfort. Dave had to admit it was good to feel someone else’s body against his, a body that wasn’t one of his children’s.

“Aye. The thing is, I’d need to travel around quite a bit and I don’t want to leave the bairns alone with Lottie. I think I’ll turn the offer down.”

“Why don’t you take the kids with you, go on a working holiday? The summer holidays aren’t far, and if you take Lottie you’d be free to do your thing and spend the rest of the time with the kids,” Sarah suggested.

That possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. It made perfect sense, of course. They could travel from cottage to cottage, preferably find places to stay from which he could reach more than just one site so they wouldn’t have to move around too much. The question was if Rose would agree to this. He hadn’t even asked when she needed the new photos for the brochure. “I’d have to check with Rose if that’s possible.”

“Rose?” Sarah asked, arching an eyebrow over the rim of her glass as she finished her wine.

“She works for the Heritage Trust Fund.”

“Tyler? Rose Tyler?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve talked to Rose Tyler?”

“Yes, I met her at that charity event.” For some reason, he didn’t feel ready to tell Sarah the whole story. It was just too soon, no matter how he felt about Rose. The kiss was a very vivid memory, a wonderful one. One he wanted to share with Rose alone, at least for now. He hoped he’d sounded matter-of-fact enough not to have raised Sarah’s suspicion.

“I should check the photo credits in the magazines more carefully,” Sarah said. “What’s she like?”

“She’s lovely and very professional.” _Kind and generous, torn apart by grief. A telepath and an alien to this universe. Wonderful and a great kisser. Absolutely stunning and quite unaware of her beauty._

“Ah,” Sarah said, and Dave feared for a moment that he had said out loud what he had been thinking. Sarah must think he was in love with her already, which, he had to admit, was the case. But it was too bloody soon for that. Far too soon. He felt unfaithful to Rita, a bit as if he was betraying the children and his family and friends.

“Sarah, I can’t tell you more about her. We didn’t talk much.”

“Enough for her to offer you a job.”

Dave sighed. Had she sussed him out?

“I don’t talk about celebs that way. It was just a job that opened up other possibilities for me. That’s how it works.”

“You’re very discreet, Dave. I like that about you,” Sarah said, laying her hand on his denim-clad thigh. “But you’re also my friend.”

Dave lowered his gaze to his glass.

“Just be careful, yeah?”

-:-

After Sarah had left and he had checked on the children, Dave retreated to his bedroom. Although he had the antique bed all to himself, he still slept on his “side” of the bed. He had changed the linens several times so there wasn’t a trace of Rita’s scent left on her pillows. They looked pristine in the soft light of the room. He had even tucked her diary beneath her pillows again. He’d only opened it the one time to write down the time and date when he’d lost her, but he had never read it. He’d read the other ones in the search of Lucy’s dad — and he wished he hadn’t, or that he hadn’t tried to find Stuart. He would have had to lie to Lucy, but it would have saved them so much heartache. Lucy would have come around eventually. Now he had to fight for her and he didn’t know if he had the strength for it. Did that make him a bad father?

He fished his phone out of his pocket and put it on his bedside table. His thoughts returned to Rose. He still couldn’t believe what had happened at her house. The kiss had been exquisite and it had shaken and aroused him more than any other kiss. It had been innocent as well as very erotic — simply the sweetest kiss he’d ever given and received. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the press of Rose’s lips against his and her hand against his cheek. The kiss had come unexpectedly, but it had also been wonderful and it had been a long time since he’d felt so alive. He wanted to kiss her again, and soon, impropriety be damned.

It was too soon to fall in love again, and he knew that Rita would probably be upset with him, wherever she was now. She’d be both furious as well as happy for him to have found someone to love, anxious what would become of their children. But she also ought to know that he always put them first.

Maybe that was what he should do. Put the children first and be the best father to them he could possibly be instead of falling in love with a rich and powerful heiress. She had said she wanted to be with him, but would she still want him when she realised that he came with not one child, but with five? That he was a grandfather?

Dave rubbed his hands over his face. He shouldn’t even be asking himself that question. There was only one answer.

His memory made him feel the pressure of her lips against his.

He groaned, dropping his hands into his lap.

“Help me,” he whispered in a rare need to pray.

His phone rang and tore him from his thoughts. As he picked up his phone to check the caller ID he saw that it was Rose. He tapped the green button to answer the call.

“Hey,” he said, running his left hand through his hair.

“Is this a bad time? I realise it’s late.”

Dave chuckled. “No, it’s okay. I’ve just said good-night to Sarah.”

“I’ve been wondering about your au pair.”

“Oh, that went very well. Lottie is moving in with us on Monday, so we’ll have to redecorate the old guest room for her,” he said. “Good job I got to practise on your wall.”

Rose laughed softly, a warm sound that travelled the length of his body and pooled pleasantly in his stomach. “Are you telling me you aren’t sore?”

“I am, a bit, but then I didn’t do that much painting, did I?”

“No, I suppose you didn’t. But I enjoyed your company.”

“Likewise,” he said, worrying his bottom lip. “I’m just not sure if it’d be right for me to take the job. With the Heritage Trust Fund.”

“Why ever not?”

Dave took a deep breath. “I don’t want the job if you’re... Just because we know each other.”

“I liked your work at the charity ball. That’s why I offered you the job. If you feel that you’re wasting your time — now that I know how good you are — I won’t take any offence if you decline the offer. At the time I had no idea you were an artist, and I apologise if I’ve offended you in a way,” Rose said, sounding contrite.

“It’s not that, Rose,” he said. “I... I’m not sure it’s proper for me to work for you, considering what happened.”

“The kissing thing.”

“I loved the kissing thing.”

“Oh.”

“Aye.”

Rose took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t discuss this over the phone.”

“No.”

“The thing is I’ve had to leave the city,” she said, her voice laced by chagrin. “Which is why my call is so late.”

“It is, but it’s okay if you’re in a different time zone. Where are you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

Dave didn’t know what to say.

“It’s work, Dave. It’s part of my job that we not disclose our location to outsiders,” she explained.

“We?”

“Mickey and Dominic are with me. You met Mickey briefly that night.”

“Right.”

“He’s my best friend, Dave.”

He blushed. “I didn’t... I’m not...”

“No. I just wanted you to know.”

“What is that job of yours?” he asked. He wasn’t stupid; she wasn’t with the police, but it was obvious she wasn’t just working for the Heritage Trust Fund. Rose must have realised that too.

“It’s complicated.”

“I thought so.”

“It has nothing to do with us, Dave.”

“Us?”

“We’re back at square one. The kissing thing.”

“Aye.”

“I know it’s very soon for you. I’ll... I,” Rose said, stopping herself.

“I know,” Dave said.

“Can we talk when I’m back? Over dinner. I’ll cook.”

“Rose,” he began.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, so you get some time to think things over. Please?”

“I’d love to.”

Rose exhaled and he could hear her smile as she did so.

“Is it bedtime for you?” he asked.

“Way past,” she said.

“Well, feel yourself kissed good night.”

“And you. Sweet dreams, Dave.”

Dave rung off, staring at his phone for a while after he had ended the call. The conversation had taken a more intimate turn than he had expected — or even dreamed of — at the beginning. He had fallen for Rose, hard and very quickly. There was no denying it now. He’d be foolish if he didn’t acknowledge his feelings for her, guilty conscience or no. He’d just have to take things slowly, give each of time to get used the idea of them being more than just friends. The idea made him smile despite his guilty conscience.

Could you love more than one woman with all your heart?


	16. Chapter 16

It had been a long day, and when she’d called Dave she’d been about to get some rest. She’d been about to go to sleep, but she had reached the point where she was so overtired that she knew it would be impossible to get to sleep. Mickey, Dominic and she had been deployed to the Arabian Desert at very short notice by Headquarters in London since their branch wasn’t fully functional yet and the London offices were short-staffed. Jake, in London’s opinion, was more than capable to oversee the conversion of the Priory by himself. At least, the case they had been assigned seemed straightforward. A delegation of Sheeryan traders wanted to purchase seeds of a rare desert plant which they hoped would help them save an endangered species of medicinal flower in their home world.

While Rose conducted the negotiations, Dominic was to observe how Torchwood worked. Although a doctor, his tasks wouldn’t be restricted to the infirmary. The Priory Team was simply going to be too small to be able to let him stay behind in the office most of the time, waiting for his skills to be needed.

They spent the night in one of the poshest hotels in town, at the invitation of the Sheeryans. The traders were grateful to Torchwood for helping them out with this problem, as well as what they had done for the ship that had crashed in the Glasgow park. Even though the three of them felt uncomfortable accepting such generosity, Rose knew that it was the politic thing to do and so she accepted graciously on her team’s behalf.

The team had met briefly with the Sheeryan delegation after their arrival. The aliens had been wearing a shimmer to hide their true forms, basically humanoid, but skin that was a lovely shade of blue and an extra pair of arms. Rose and Mickey joked about them looking like Smurfs, but it was a private joke because like so many other things the Smurfs didn’t exist in Pete’s World. Dominic had stood by, watching them interact. Torchwood had a good relationship with the Sheeryans, and he told Rose later that if he hadn’t known he’d never have realised they were aliens.

“That’s the idea,” Rose said, grinning at him with the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “When we meet with the Sheik tomorrow, we mustn’t let on who we are. I’ll just be nice and decorative on your arm while you conduct the negotiations.”

“What?”

“I’ll do the interpreting,” Rose laughed. “The Sheeryan have a very sophisticated translator but to keep up the appearance that they were British citizens I’ll do the talking. They want me to do it, just to be on the safe side. But since I am a woman, and the tribe we’re trading with is one of the more traditional ones, we’ll have to pretend that it’s really you who does the talking.”

“But wouldn’t they want a male interpreter?” Dominic asked.

“Not if I’m the only one you trust,” Rose said. She bit her lip before she continued, “Also, I’ll be your wife.”

Dominic’s eyes went wide. “Right,” he said after a few moments. Mickey, Rose noticed, couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“Have you got one of their translators?” Dominic asked.

“I have something better,” Rose said. “I speak their language.”

“You speak the language of some obscure Bedouin tribe?”

“When I travelled with the Doctor,” she explained, “I saved his life, and in the process I got the gift of languages.”

“And then I put your grasp of languages down to excellent private tutoring,” Dominic said.

“It isn’t so different, really. It’s an explanation that the general public are ready to accept,” Rose said.

Dominic nodded. Rose gave him a simple golden ring that he was to put on for appearance’s sake. She showed him her own.

“And what role do you play in this?” Dominic asked, slipping the ring on his left finger as he looked at Mickey.

“I’m the muscle. I’ll get to wear a nice white suit and all,” Mickey said, grinning broadly.

Again, Dominic nodded. The better Rose got to know him the more she appreciated his quiet, accepting demeanour. She couldn’t help wondering, though, how long it would be until his patience ran out. Hopefully, he wasn’t one of those people whose temper snapped violently without warning.

After the meeting, they had wished each other goodnight and retired to their luxurious rooms. It had just gone two, but as Rose picked up her mobile she felt the urge to call Dave. With any luck he’d be still up, despite the ungodly hour for a call. She just wanted to hear his voice and ask him how things were. Also, she wanted to tell him that she was abroad so he didn’t worry if he tried to ring her.

Lightheaded, she touched the red button on the screen of her phone. He had still been up and, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by, delighted she’d called. Her chest had gotten tight as the conversation progressed, filling her with, as her Mum said, the warm fuzzies. It was then that she realised that she hadn’t told him that she wouldn’t be available. Although they had access to Torchwood’s satellite network and would get good coverage basically anywhere on the planet, it was part of their policy that they restricted personal calls to the absolute minimum. Rose quickly typed a short email, which she sent to his work account for want of his personal email address, ending it with Love, Rose, and a kiss.

Now that she was thousands of miles and three time zones away from him she realised that she didn’t just want to be friends with him. She had known for a while that she wanted to be with him, but that she wanted to love him, and, hopefully, be loved by him in return was different. She’d felt that way for a while now, but with the distance between them she found it easier to admit her feelings. She had really liked kissing him, realising, in that moment as he was cowering in the corner of her bedroom, his expression aghast, that she loved him.

Rose laughed as exhilaration washed through her. It shouldn’t feel so unexpected. It certainly felt liberating. They really needed to talk; what she had to tell him wasn’t something to be discussed over the phone. She was glad she had invited him to dinner. Hopefully, the mission would be over soon so she could get back home and whip up something delicious for him.

-:-

The negotiations went swiftly once the Sheik had adjusted to the fact that the voice speaking for his trading partners was female. He seemed to accept Dominic’s explanation, that he trusted her alone to interpret faithfully and precisely for him, after short deliberation. The Sheeryans seemed a bit bemused by the whole proceedings at first, but they stuck to the plan they had discussed the night before and followed the conversation with curiosity. Sometimes Rose had the impression that they were more interested in the social interaction than the trade itself. It was those moments when she suggested they talk among themselves, pretending that the Sheik’s suggestions needed discussing. But eventually the trade was done and the Sheik invited them to spend the night with his tribe in the desert. They had prepared a party for them.

“We would like to leave as soon as possible,” Aquiouk whispered to Rose as she told them of the invitation. Rose couldn’t blame him. She wanted to get back home sooner rather than later as well.

“I understand that, but it would be extremely rude to turn down their invitation and it might ruin any chances of future trade with them,” she explained. She also found it funny that they didn’t understand that aspect of the Bedouin culture since hospitality was so important on their home world as well.

Aquiouk frowned and exchanged glances with his partner, Semimnan. “We’re afraid the shimmer might not hold out that long,” Semimnan said.

Rose pursed her lips. That could be a problem.

“I’ve got two spare power packs,” Mickey said softly. It was the first time he’d spoken in the Arabs’ company. Until then, he and Semimnan had played their role of silent muscle to the letter. They had put on impassive expressions and stood by as if the goings-on were none of their business. They had kept an eye on the Sheik’s entourage, the hooded falcons perching on some of the men’s fists in particular.

Semimnan’s face lit up. It was obvious that he very much wanted to stay to find out more about his Human hosts. He talked to Aquiouk briefly in their own language.

“Do you think this is wise?” Dominic asked her softly.

Rose shrugged. “The power packs are good for forty-eight hours, so I don’t see why not. We’ll be back long before that.”

Dominic sighed. “I was hoping we’d be able to get back as soon as possible as well. I’m not sure I like the way they treat women.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a guest, a guest’s wife even,” Rose said.

“Hmm.”

“We’ll be all right,” Mickey agreed. “It’d be worse if we turned down their hospitality.”

“We would like to accept their hospitality. For one night,” Aquiouk said, bowing slightly. He remembered, at the last moment, to do so towards Dominic instead of Rose. She fastened the veil over her nose and mouth and turned back to the Sheik to thank him for his generosity and hospitality.

The Sheik grinned at Dominic, and soon arrangements were made for them to follow him and his men in their hired Jeep. The Sheik had his own Jeep, in which he had arrived at their negotiations in the shade of a tent on the edge of the desert.

The ride through the desert was bumpy, and for a while Rose wondered how the Bedouin found their way in the ever-changing sand. It even looked as if the ground itself were moving. The wind was blowing constantly, drawing waves in the orange sand so that it looked like rippling water. But instead of the sun glittering on the water there was a constant tingling and rushing sound as the grains chafed against each other.

In the car, Rose took off her veil; it offered protection against the sun, but it was also very hot. Dominic looked at her for a moment and smiled. Rose put her glasses back on and returned her gaze to the dunes outside. She jumped a little when he touched her thigh.

“Water?” he asked, holding a bottle out for her. She took it gratefully but tried not to meet his eyes for too long. It was obvious that Dominic was interested in her. It was funny. For years, no one had wanted to get to know her, and now that she had met Dave, Dominic had showed up as well. Hopefully, Dominic would accept her no as such when the time came. At least she was sure about how she felt for Dave — and she hoped that he felt the same way about her. The kiss had been too intense for it to have been casual. And the way he’d wished her a goodnight when she’d talked to him on the phone had been too... intimate for ‘just friends’.

Rose smiled and took another swig of water.

“What’s so amusing?” Dominic asked, leaning in a little. He, too, had taken off his hat. His dark hair was matted to his head where the hat had sat, and he looked flushed.

“I was just thinking of someone who would enjoy this ride a lot. And the scenery,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. Dave would enjoy taking photos of this fascinating desert.

“Ah.”

“You might want to put on some more sunscreen,” she said, digging in her handbag for the bottle. He took it and refreshed the protective layer.

When they arrived in the village of tents they were greeted with much fanfare, but since it was close to the hottest time of the day, they were offered the chance to retire to their tents for a nap. Much to Rose’s dismay, she and Dominic were to share one tent, while Mickey bunked down with the Sheeryans in another. She didn’t find it all funny when Mickey waggled his eyebrows at her. If even _he_ had noticed Dominic’s interest in her, then he was more serious than she’d thought. Oh dear. Mickey didn’t know about Dave. She’d have to remedy that, and soon.

Surprisingly, she found that falling asleep was easier than she’d expected it to be once she’d finally laid down for a nap. There was a heaviness in her limbs that suggested how tired she still was. Dominic had stretched out next to her but kept his distance.

“I’d been looking forward to a shower,” he murmured. “I suppose that’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“That, and a dip in the pool. I’m still tense from the flight,” Rose replied.

“And I’m sure the wild ride did have its own effect. I could rub your shoulders, if you want?” he asked after a while.

His offer was very tempting, but Rose didn’t want to encourage him. “No, I’ll be fine, thanks.” She infused her voice with enough drowsiness to suggest that he leave her alone, and he did.

She’d also wanted to call Dave again that evening. She should have anticipated the Sheik’s invitation — after all, their hospitality was famous. The same went for warning Aquiouk and Semimnan to keep their shimmer devices fully charged. That kind of lack of attention to detail was something she found barely tolerable, and even more so in herself.

Thoughts of Dave and the kiss had been distracting her. When she closed her eyes she could still feel his lips on hers, and the warmth of his breath as it brushed over her cheek. His smell, a mixture of soap and warmth she’d found appealing, returned with the sensory memory. She wished she could bask in his warmth and scent right then, instead of the stale smell of the strange bedding, with Dominic by her side.

Rose woke with a start when someone touched her shoulder.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Dominic said, withdrawing his hand. “Someone’s just come to rouse us. I think we’re expected in the Sheik’s tent. Or where ever it is they want us to be.”

“What’s the time? How long have I been asleep?” Rose sat up in an attempt to shake off her drowsiness.

“A couple of hours.”

“What!”

“We needed it. The jet lag and the excitement took their toll on our bodies,” he said, passing her a bottle of water.

“I suppose so,” Rose said, taking the water. It hadn’t often been like that when she’d travelled with the Doctor. She’d feel the exhaustion settle in only when she had no energy left in her and she’d be able to sleep virtually anywhere. It had taken the Doctor a while to appreciate that fact and give her some time to sleep. What at first he’d regarded as a nuisance had, over time, become something he’d learned to enjoy. Rose had wondered how long it had been for him since he’d last travelled with a Human that he’d forgotten about something as basic as her need for sleep.

“You ready?” Dominic asked, holding out a hand for her to pull her to her feet. She draped the veil over her head and face, and then they left their tent.

The temperature had dropped ever so slightly; the sun was far closer to the western horizon now than when they had arrived, and life was picking up in the tent village. They went to the square at the centre of the village, where an array of low tables had been put up, surrounded by rugs and cushions for them to sit on. Dominic took her hand as they approached the Sheik. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Mickey, whose mouth twitched a little. Rose glared at him to shut up. She really needed to talk to him about Dave to make sure that there were no misunderstandings.

“I am very happy that you are here with us tonight. Please, enjoy everything we have on offer,” the Sheik said, gesturing for them to sit.

Although the makeshift square was sheltered by the tents the wind was blowing fiercely and Rose had to tuck her veil in very firmly to make sure it stayed in place. Thankfully, one of the Sheik’s wives told her that as a guest she didn’t need to cover her face. Breathing was easier that way, but Rose also noticed that the wind blew the sand into her face. Thoughts of a sand storm crossed her mind, images of the one in _The English Patient_ popped up in front of her inner eye. The idea of being stuck here, buried beneath sand, wasn’t a pleasant one, and she quickly wiped it away like a cobweb. Those were just stories.

Throughout the evening Dominic stayed close to her, and if she was honest, she felt safer for it. Mickey would be first to rescue her, of course, but since they had established the story of her being Mrs Henley, she felt a lot better. With her pale complexion and the odd lock of blonde hair stealing from beneath her veil, she felt very much like a curiosity to the otherwise very friendly people.

After a delicious dinner of roast meat and steamed couscous the Bedouin brought out their instruments, they spent the evening exchanging stories, which Rose translated, while enjoying the music and dance. The inky cold of the desert night was locked out by a circle of torches and braziers arranged around their sitting area, in the midst of which they had lit a fire. Rose was content to watch the embers burst, yellow and orange, into the night sky as if they wanted to join the white and distant stars.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dominic asked, leaning closer towards her.

“Yes.”

“Do you know any of the constellations?”

Rose looked at him. She had learned about quite a few of them when she had travelled with the Doctor and she could show them to Dominic. The sky above them wasn’t any different than the one of her original universe; it was something that had always offered her some solace. “Do you?”

“Everything looks different here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many stars. It’s beautiful.”

“The air is much clearer here than it is back home,” Rose said. She squinted. “Although... What’s that?” She pointed at the horizon above the tents, where the sky seemed to move.

One of the Bedouin who had followed her gaze jumped and yelled, “Sandstorm!”

Rose paled. “What?”

“There’s a sandstorm coming. Look!”

The music and chatter died down immediately and the party broke up as people jumped up, busying themselves gathering all their things to take them to the safety of their tents. Someone ushered Rose and Dominic to their tent, giving them hurried instructions of what they had to do. Basically, it was ensuring their tent flap was closed firmly and wrapping themselves in as many layers of clothing or blankets as possible and keep some water ready.

Semimnan and Aquiouk exchanged panicked glances with Rose and Mickey. “You should switch off your shimmers during the storm, just to be on the safe side. Don’t worry, no one will come into your tent, and even if they did, make sure to wrap yourselves in blankets and put on your sunglasses. No one will be the wiser,” Rose reassured them. She was back again to thinking on her feet.

Before either of them could say anything else they had reached their tents. The Bedouin assigned to their care urged them inside and secured the flap tightly. The wind was already tearing at the material and Rose envisioned them buried beneath the heavy dark cloth and a layer of sand once the storm was over.

Some of the sand had found its way beneath her linen tunic and even her bra and it was chafing, particularly the tender scar tissue on her back. She would have liked to take off her clothes and run herself a bath because she felt like a child who had spent the day playing in the sand box, but with Dominic around and the storm outside that wasn’t an option.

“Are you all right?” Dominic asked.

“Yeah,” she replied distractedly.

“Don’t be... alarmed.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’re in discomfort,” he said.

“The sand is everywhere,” Rose said, sighing. “It’s particularly bad on my back. Where the scars are.”

“You’re hot,” he said, and when he noticed her shocked expression, added, “as in sweaty. You should take a sponge bath and dry off properly. That way the sand won’t stick to your skin as much.”

Rose had to admit that he had a point. “But we need the water to drink.”

“There’s enough to water an army,” Dominic said. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Rose hesitated.

“It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“But then I was your patient,” Rose pointed out.

“And now?”

“You tell me.”

Dominic sighed. “I like you, Rose. A lot.”

Rose slumped inwardly as well as literally. “I like you too, Dominic. But I’m... interested in another man.”

“Oh. Well.” Dominic said. “Then let’s make sure he gets you... back in one piece.”

Rose was stunned. “You aren’t mad?”

“Not mad, no. Disappointed. But I’m glad you’re still my friend. Assuming that we can be friends?”

“It’s a bit... awkward, but yes, why not,” Rose said, still stunned by his acceptance.

“You’re... well,” he began, clamping his mouth shut to gather his thoughts. “You’ve been very distant. Not in a bad way, but I know that expression. And who am I to try to win a woman’s heart when she’s given it to someone else?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Story of my life.”

“Now I really am sorry.”

“Rose, please. I don’t want your pity. I’m glad you’re my friend. I should have... Well, anyway. My offer stands.”

“Thank you.” Rose hugged him, and, on impulse, kissed his cheek. “I’d love you to be my friend.”

She took off her veil, her tunic and her bra. The latter came off with a sigh of relief. Dominic, who had moved to kneel behind her, shone the lantern they had been given on her back to assess the damage. “Your scars look a bit raw,” he said, crouching to be able to see better. He put the lantern on the low table beside them and moved Rose so he could see her scars and treat her at the same time. “I’m afraid all I can do at the moment is clean the wounds a bit and make sure they’re dry.”

“Wounds!” Rose said in alarm.

“It isn’t that bad, but I suggest you don’t put on any clothes for a while,” he said.

Rose snorted.

“I _am_ your doctor, Rose.”

She wanted to say that no, he wasn’t. No one was her doctor beside the Doctor, but she bit her tongue. “All right.”

He took one of the water bottles with which they had been provided and started to pour the water down her back bit by bit. Although the water wasn’t that cold Rose jumped a little as the liquid ran down her skin and bled into the waist of her linen trousers. Dominic used his hankie to daub her skin, just pressing it to her back instead of rubbing it. The comparatively cool water started to feel good and Rose relaxed under his professional ministrations.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning her head so she could look over her shoulder. He looked up briefly. “If we’d met a few weeks earlier...”

“Bad timing, hmm?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I just hope your man knows just how lucky he is.”

They were silent for a while.

“Thank you,” she said. “For being so... adult about this.”

He patted her skin dry with her veil. “There, all done.”

“And now?”

“Now you try to get some sleep.” He handed her the tunic. “Sorry, no bra. Just to make sure you’ll be all right. If we were in Glasgow I’d put some salve and a dressing on you.”

“Doctor’s orders, eh?”

“Yep.”

“Are we good, Dominic?” Rose asked as they lay down. Rose felt strangely naked just in her tunic. They had dragged the bedding to the centre of the tent to avoid the worst of the storm. Although the material of the tent was tough, Dominic insisted that they not take any risks.

“Yeah. I’d have been incredibly lucky to find a woman like you still being single. I’ll get over it.”

“Good.” Rose reached out to squeeze his hand.

“So, how did you two meet?”

“He saved my life,” Rose said, and then began to tell him the story of how Dave and she had met. Outside, the sandstorm had reached the Bedouin village and was tearing at the dark material of the tents, making the guy lines sing. The din was unbelievable, and if the movement of sand over sand had been a gentle rushing sound earlier it had now swollen to a howl. Rose didn’t let go of Dominic’s hand as they lay side by side. She was glad she had a story to tell him to distract herself from the images that had popped into her mind earlier that evening. They would be all right.


	17. Chapter 17

Perhaps we painted on our own skin, with ochre and charcoal, long before we painted on stone. In any case, forty thousand years ago, we left painted hand prints.  
— Anne Michaels, _The Winter Vault_

Part 3

Seventeen

Rose busied herself in the kitchen. Until that night she hadn’t used it for much other than warming up some take-away or whipping up some pasta. She’d never been much of a cook, but since she’d met Dave an urge to please him, to care for him, had taken hold of her. The independent, I-don’t-do-domestic side of her, the one she’d inherited from the Doctor, her first one, scoffed a bit at it, but she could also see her second Doctor’s eyes soften at the idea. That was who she was. Self-confident and strong, yet she also had a nurturing side that made her want to pamper him. It pleased her, reassured her.

She hadn’t ever really set the kitchen up properly, making sure that things were within reach when she needed them, but she’d managed to make do for this meal. Glad for a moment to flit back to the hot room to get the dessert, she leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. So far, the evening had gone very well. She had braised beef in red wine and made one of her favourites, potato gratin, as a side dish. The meat had been very tender, the sauce rich and velvety, the wine complimented by an outrageous variety of spices. It hadn’t been complicated to put together, which was what had pleased her so much about the meal.

Best of all, Dave had closed his eyes as he’d tasted the meat and sauce for the first time, humming his appreciation after a few heartbeats that had left Rose anxious. It would have been horrible if the meal hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped, or if he didn’t like it.

But. The way to this man’s heart, she’d found it.

“I had no idea you were such a fantastic cook,” he’d said in awe.

“Beginner’s luck,” she’d demurred, lowering her gaze to her plate.

She’d left him in the next room; the doors separating the dining room from the kitchen were wide open, but he was out of her sight. Rose drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t just tell him that she loved him. It was far too early for that, too much too soon. Since her return from the desert all she’d been able to think of was that she loved him. She didn’t just want to be with him. She loved him.

“Hey,” he said, stepping just inside the kitchen door. “Are you all right?” He took a few steps towards her, stopping by the counter in the centre of the room, where the gas stove was. His eyes drifted to the small saucepan and the sieve with the dead vegetables; she’d had to braise them with the meat and squeeze as much liquid as possible out of them for the sauce. They were now but a brownish pulp.

Flustered, Rose pushed herself away from the counter. “Yeah.” The word came out as an embarrassing little squeak.

“Can I help you with anything?” His eyes travelled to the disaster area around the stove and to the counter where she’d stacked the plates.

Rose realised that she could hardly send him back to the dining room. He’d been there all by himself far too long, and she’d probably upset him because of that. She gestured at her French press. “You could make coffee. If you want.”

He eyed the contraption. “Ah. I’m afraid I don’t know how to use it.”

Rose smiled. “I didn’t want you to see this mess. On the other hand,” she said, opening the fridge to get out the strawberries and mascarpone cream she’d made, “it’s perfect proof that I really prepared dinner.”

Dave chuckled. “Don’t worry, my kitchen doesn’t look any better after preparing dinner.”

“I’ll clean that up later. Why don’t you go to the lounge and light the candles while I get our drinks?” Rose said, pressing her tumbler into his hand. When she looked up again she saw his eyes riveted on her. They were very dark and her heart skipped a beat.

Dave leaned down to her, stopping close enough to her face for his fringe to tickle her forehead. She tilted her head up and to the side a fraction, inviting him to close the distance, and then he was kissing her. It was just a brush of his lips against hers, the pressure gentle, but Rose felt pleasure course through her at once and pool low in her stomach. It was over quickly.

“Aye,” Dave said as he withdrew, his eyes heavy-lidded. He put down the two glasses and bent down for another kiss, drawing her towards him with his hands on her waist. Rose let him, and when they kissed this time, he became more bold and ran the tip of his tongue along her lips to beg entry. This was new and irresistible. Rose opened up beneath him, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his neck. His tongue was surprisingly wet and soft against hers, carrying the rich taste of red wine. She sucked on him briefly, then she let him explore her mouth, moaning softly to encourage him.

He was gentle at first, unsure of what to do. He was a wonderful kisser, though, intent on not demanding too much from her. Rose reminded herself that he had kissed the same woman for a long time and that he had yet to find out what pleased her. She brushed her tongue against the underside of his to coax him along, to fill her and taste her. And he did.

Eventually, they broke apart for some air, and he smiled at her. Rose slid her hands from his neck to his shoulders and to his chest. He was reassuringly warm, and his single heart was hammering against his ribs.

“Sofa,” she managed to say.

He nodded dazedly and picked up the two tumblers. Before he went to the lounge, however, he stole another kiss.

Rose used the time to compose herself a little. She needed to slow this down considerably. Kissing was all right, but she knew that anything further would just be rushed and, therefore, wrong, no matter how much she wanted it right then. When she joined Dave in the lounge he had lit all the candles, but he hadn’t sat down yet. He took his glass of wine from her and clinked it carefully to hers.

They sipped their wine and Rose sat on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her. Dave sat down facing her, nervously playing with his wine glass. The deep red of the drink sparkled between his pale fingers like rubies as the candle light caught it.

“I...” he began eventually. “That was wonderful.”

“Yes, it was.”

He raised his eyes to hers. “I’ve missed you, Rose. I wanted to call you.”

Her pulse quickened again. “’S work rules, Dave. Nothing personal. Vitex business generates a lot of interest and we don’t want to encourage that. I would have loved you to be there with me, though.”

Dave lowered his eyes to his wine glass, then raised them again. “I’ve been thinking, Rose. About us. We should take it slowly. No matter how we feel — don’t say anything, please. I think we should give ourselves some time to adjust. It hasn’t been that long since, well, our losses, and I... I don’t want to betray Rita. It’s funny it feels like that. I suppose I have to learn to love you both—”

Rose’s eyes went wide at his speech. She hadn’t expected him to say so clearly what she was already thinking. She reached out to cup his jaw and brushed her thumb over his smoothly shaven cheek. “I like the sound of that,” she said.

He leaned in for a kiss, but it was much more gentle and slow than the one they had shared in the kitchen.

“So how was the trip?” he asked, smiling as they separated.

“They showed us some cave paintings,” Rose said. “They coloured their hands and pressed them to the rocks and you can still see them.”

“Oh,” he said, remembering, as she’d intended for him to, the pair of hand prints in her bedroom above. “Where did you go?” he asked, his voice thick. He sipped his wine.

“The Rub’al Khali.” She could tell him now. Officially, the trip had been done on behalf of Vitex, and there was no reason to keep it a secret now that it was over. To her amazement, Dave’s face lit up as she told him where she’d been. It definitely was an expression of recognition.

“You did? How did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Rose said. “It’s such a beautiful place. So vast. I wish I had taken a better camera but I only had my mobile to take them with. I was thinking about how much you would love the light and the colours. But you’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Aye, but it’s been a long time. It was... magnificent. Would you show me your pictures?”

Rose coloured. “They aren’t any good, just some touristy snapshots. I wouldn’t want to—”

“Please. I’d like to see it through your eyes.”

Nodding slowly, Rose stood to fetch her mobile. His interest was genuine; he really wanted to get to know her, and his last request was one she couldn’t deny, no matter how self-conscious she was. When she returned, Dave was eating the dessert, a look of true delight on his face, and Rose fell in love with him a little bit more.

“This is delicious,” he said, putting down the glass and spoon.

Rose smiled and handed him her mobile with the folder of photos already open. She picked up her own glass of strawberries and mascarpone and busied herself eating it as he went through her photos.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, gazing at a photo Dominic had taken of her. He had taken it the day after the sandstorm. The early evening sunlight had been gorgeous and the Sheik had taken them to the cave paintings. Rose hadn’t felt particularly beautiful; she was hot and sweaty, hadn’t changed her clothes or taken a shower since the morning before. The veil was playing about her face in the soft breeze, and if one looked closely it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. She coloured. Dominic had taken her photo in an unguarded moment.

She made an embarrassed little sound and concentrated on her food.

“You are,” Dave insisted.

“I’m not. This was the night after we’d gotten trapped in a massive sandstorm.”

His eyes went wide. “You were?”

“The sand was everywhere. It feels like it’s still there, in my hair.”

“That must have been terrifying,” he said softly, dropping his hands to his thighs as he looked at her.

“It was. I’ve never heard such a... Howling before, it almost sounded like an angry animal.”

“Were you safe?”

“We were in a tent. It’s amazing how sturdy they are. I have no idea how the Bedouin do it, but we were safe,” Rose said. “Then again, they’ve done this for millennia, so they’d know."

“Luckily, there wasn’t one when I went out there,” Dave said. “Hearing you talk about it makes me realise that it’s definitely something I can do without.”

“I’d love to see your pictures.”

He nodded absently, returning his attention to her photos. “That’s Mickey, yeah?” he asked, holding her phone up for her.

“And that’s Dominic.” Rose stopped herself. Dominic had been great about her turning him down. He had withdrawn a bit, but he’d still been the same kind man. She felt bad for what happened, but her heart belonged to Dave.

“And those two?”

“Vitex clients,” Rose said as he showed her the photo of Aquiouk and Semimnan. The two had gone through hell during the night, terrified of both the storm and that their shimmers wouldn’t hold out. Mickey had told her that reassuring them hadn’t been easy although they’d returned to their natural forms for the duration of the storm. They had been crushed to find that once the storm let up it was too late to travel back to the city and they’d have to spend another night in the Empty Quarter. The trip to the painted caves had made up for it, though, for all of them. The batteries on the Sheeryan shimmers went flat just after they’d reached the safety of their hotel.

“You took them to the desert?” Dave asked.

“We had business to do with the Sheik. Vitex arranged for the meeting and I had to be there and be decorative.”

“That you certainly were,” Dave said, switching off the mobile and leaning in for another kiss.

“Dave,” Rose said, pleasantly dazed from his kisses and the wine.

“Aye, Rose?” he asked, kissing her again. He drew her towards him, sliding his hand along her still sore back. Rose hated herself for hissing in pain at his touch, and Dave snatched his hand away as if he’d burnt it.

“What... ?”

“I... I’m a bit sore. The sand was everywhere and it chafed my back.”

“Oh, oh. I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She cupped his cheek with her palm again. She loved the feel of his freckled skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

“Is that... That’s where you were burnt. The night I found you.”

Rose nodded.

“And you’ve got scars now,” he pointed out.

Rose nodded. “They usually don’t hurt, but the sand rubbed the skin nearly raw. But as I said, I’ll be all right.”

“You’re an amazing, mysterious woman, Rose Tyler,” he said.

Rose felt her jaw go slack. Her name out of his mouth sounded a lot like the Doctor had said it, and still it was completely different. Pleasant shivers ran down her spine. “Kiss me, please?”

He kissed her, wrapping his other arm around her good side and bringing up his hand up to cradle her jaw. They were still getting to know each other, but they still managed to get lost in the kiss. Her mind went wonderfully blank and all she could think of was kissing this man that she’d fallen in love with. How much she loved the way he tasted and how she wanted to take his sadness away. Once, she tried to put all her desperation for him into the kiss but he slowed her down, moaning something softly. For a moment she was tempted to open up completely to him but she remembered how scared he had been the first time she had done it and she stopped herself.

“Rose,” he said, gasping for breath. “I... l—”

She covered his lips with her fingers. “We’ve never really talked about the _Emptiness Folder_ ,” she said, trying to steer them towards safer ground. He seemed to remember that they had agreed not to rush things. What he’d been about to say was far more than she was ready to hear, although she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she felt the same.

“No,” he said, confused.

“I’d like to do it... the shoot as soon as possible, before it’s too late. Before the feeling’s gone, yeah?”

Dave looked at her for a while, clearly searching for the right words. “I’m not sure that feeling will ever leave me. It’s not just about loss... it’s about the fear of losing my loved ones.”

“How many children do you have, Dave?”

“Five, including Lucy.”

Rose picked up her half-finished strawberries and crème and began to eat absentmindedly. It would have been silly of her to assume that Dave was only a father to Lucy. That left four children he had to care for, and it explained a lot of things about him. It certainly explained his fear of losing them as well. And the au pair. “How’s it going with the au pair?”

“They’ve been getting on quite well. This is the first night I’ve left them by themselves.”

“Are you nervous?”

He gave her a gorgeous little smile. “Like hell. For different reasons, but so far, everything seems to have gone well.”

“What reasons are they?” Rose asked, licking her spoon clean and putting the empty tumbler down on the table.

“Well, there’s the kissing thing.”

“I loved the kissing thing,” Rose said, taking his empty wine glass from him. She shifted on the sofa so she was kneeling next to him. He looked up at her, his gaze darkening and his bottom lip sticking out. “No need to be nervous about that.” She cradled his head in her hands and slowly bent to kiss him, nibbling at his bottom lip before dipping her tongue into his mouth. The flavour of the wine on his tongue mixed perfectly with the strawberries and cheese crème on her own.

“The _Emptiness Folder_ ,” he gasped afterwards, reaching for his own dessert.

“Is that a reminder, or a reason to be nervous?” she asked, tucking her tongue into the corner of her mouth. She was rewarded with Dave’s touched smile; she’d do anything to see him smile like this.

“Both,” he chuckled.

“No need to be nervous about that.” She kissed him again, gently, lingeringly.

“About hurting you.”

Rose’s heart clenched. “No need to be nervous about that either.” Again, she kissed him.

“About you changing your mind about me.”

“Never. Don’t you ever be nervous about that. Yeah?” She cradled his face again and just brushed her lips over his. The words hung between them, reflecting in each other’s eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

Raindrops glittered on the dark taxi when Dave stepped onto the pavement. The air smelled of damp soil and wet tarmac, and when he held his breath and listened carefully he could hear the soft patter of the rain on the foliage. Opening the car door he turned back to the house where Rose stood silhouetted against the brightly lit hall inside the storm door. She had wrapped her arms around herself, unmoving. It seemed wrong that he should have to leave her after the kisses they had shared. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with her in his arms, or, better even, in her bed. But they had both agreed that it would be better if he went home. Waving at her, he slid into the taxi. Rose was still there, in the kaleidoscope of the rain-sprinkled window. The cabbie pulled away from the kerb, and then she was gone.

He could still feel the press of Rose’s lips against his as he stared, without seeing, at the cityscape flitting past in the nearly empty streets. There were two worlds outside the window, the real one and the one reflected in the puddles and on the glistening pavements. Two worlds met each other, and for a while Dave couldn’t shake the thought that this was very much like what he and Rose had. They were literally from different worlds. They led lives that were distinct and only touched in small places. They had things they couldn’t — yet — tell the other.

Like he was a father of five – he had told her, but it hadn’t been easy.

That he was a failure, divorcing his first wife and consequently losing his first child for a while. Failing to marry his great love and consequently losing his ‘second’ child.

He hadn’t had it in him to tell her that he was a grandfather.

Whatever Rose’s secrets, he couldn’t imagine how she could be any more broken than he. She was clever and warm, and she had already entrusted him with a secret so big that everything else paled in comparison. Only, it wasn’t about being a failure at being human, but a triumph. She had travelled with an alien, had saved his life and gotten gifts in return that were more a curse than a blessing. How did you live with the ability to not only understand all kinds of languages but to feel people’s feelings?

And still, Rose had fallen for him.

Of that he was certain now. The thought filled him with with giddiness and confusion. He wondered what she saw in him — obviously someone who was worthy of all the promises she had made, each insured with a kiss. The sentiment had hung in the air between them, far more powerful in its implication than any words could ever be.

Whatever her secret, he would have to accept it gracefully. She had chosen him. Rose Tyler, who certainly had more suitors than she could count, had chosen _him_. He was sure that there was something she hadn’t told him yet, he had sensed it when they’d talked about her trip to the Rub’al Khali. Why would a Vitex business meeting warrant that kind of secrecy? At first she’d told him, on the phone, that she couldn’t disclose her location, but now that she was back, she’d even shown him pictures of the trip.

She’d looked so beautiful, even — or particularly — in the simple snapshot Mickey had taken. He couldn’t wait until the weekend, when they’d planned the photo shoot for the _Emptiness Folder_. Once again, Rose had assured him, without even knowing about what he planned, that she would be game with anything.

“Here we are, son,” the cabbie said, interrupting his thoughts.

Dave jumped a little. How long had they been standing at the kerb outside his house? He paid the fare and as he got out of the taxi the cold night air hit him like a brick wall. He’d had a fair amount of wine — he had become a lightweight in his years with Rita. When you were with a woman like her you didn’t need alcohol to... Wait. Did that mean that he felt like he did when he was in a relationship — preposterous thought, too early! — with Rose?

“Y’all right, son?” the cabbie asked.

Dave turned around. “Aye. Thanks.”

The cabbie grunted and ducked back into the car but he didn’t leave. Dave dug in the pocket of his jeans for his keys and held them up for the cabbie to see. It was touching, really, how concerned the older man was for his safety. Dave inhaled the crisp night air and walked down the gravel drive to the front door. The light in the lounge was still on. He unlocked the storm door and waved at the cabbie. The taxi pulled away and he stepped into the warmth of the hall.

“Lottie?” he asked, shedding his leather jacket.

“Hi, Dave,” she said, joining him in the hall. She was clad in baggy trousers and a long t-shirt. She quickly removed the pair of geek-chic glasses perched on her nose.

“I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not really tired.”

He was about to ask her how she did it, looking after the three bairns and having the energy to stay up and read that late into the night when he answered the question himself. She was only a year older than Tanya — and both girls practically burst with energy. “I completely lost track of time. I hope the kids weren’t too much of a bother?” he asked.

“Evie was a bit put out that you weren’t there to read her a bedtime story,” Lottie said, “but other than that, they were really good.”

Dave ducked his head. Evie and he did have a firmly established bedtime ritual that had only been interrupted once — the night Rita had died. He had totally forgotten about the story while he’d been at Rose’s. “Oh dear. Was it bad?”

“Well, I tried to convince her that I could read the story as well as you.”

“Oh.”

“No, I couldn’t. But she was sweet enough not to complain too much,” Lottie said. She gave him a long look. “You’ve had a good night.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Aye, I did.”

“I’m glad.”

“Let me just get a glass of water and then I’ll join you in the lounge.”

Lottie nodded and returned to her book. When he joined her, after having downed one glass and filled it up again, she’d nearly finished the thin paperback she was reading. When he peered at the title, she held the book up so he could see it was a drama based on Mary Shelley’s novel _Frankenstein_. Dave quirked an eyebrow at her choice of reading.

Lottie blushed. “It’s on in London at the moment.”

“Is it any good?”

“It’s brilliant!” Lottie enthused. “My favourite actor’s in it. Sean McDonald.”

Dave nodded. He’d read the reviews; it was supposed to be very good, but it was down in London and it was sold out.

“There’s a screening of it at the Kelvingrove Cinema. I was hoping I could go,” Lottie said, her voice rising in question at the end of the sentence.

“Sure.” He had planned to go as well; he had written a longish paper on the novel as part of his A-levels and he was curious what the playwright had done with it. Maybe he could get Anna to babysit.

“Dad?”

Ewan’s sleepy voice made him turn around before he could ask Lottie another question about the play. “Eh, what are you doing up so late?” he said gently, putting the water glass down. Ewan joined him on the sofa and curled up close to him.

“He has an important question to ask you,” Lottie said.

“Oh, and what is that?” Dave asked, intrigued. He put his arm around his boy to encourage him. The question must be very important if he’d stayed up long enough — or rather, if the question had kept him from going to sleep properly — to ask him first thing when he got home. Dave wondered what could be so important. It probably wasn’t about football; the two of them had a secret understanding that when it came to their favourite sport, all things were possible.

“I want to learn how to play the piano.”

“What?”

“I want to play the piano. Like Mum,” Ewan repeated, his voice first rising a little in defiance, only to become softer at the thought of Rita.

The request caught Dave completely unawares. Rita had decided very early on that they wanted to help their children discover their talents and to foster them as best they could. Ewan had been reluctant to study a musical instrument; although he’d loved to listen to Rita play, he’d resisted when she encouraged him to take lessons; although he’d always loved listening to Rita play, he’d been most resistant when she asked him if he wanted to learn how to play.

“Can I, Dad? Please?” Ewan asked, his eyes still filled with sleep as well as the beginnings of tears. He’d interpreted his father’s stunned silence and was afraid he might say no.

“Of course you can,” Dave managed to say around the huge lump that had formed in his throat. Ewan’s eyes lit up and he smiled widely. It was a smile Dave hadn’t seen on his face for far too long, and breathing became a little bit more difficult for a few seconds. “What made you change your mind?”

“Lottie played.”

“Oh.” They’d had an unspoken rule in the house, one which Lottie had unwittingly broken that night. He’d forgotten to tell her that the piano was Out Of Bounds for everyone but Rita. It was a rule they had establish after a near disaster involving fingers sticky with Nutella.

“I’m sorry,” Lottie said, obviously still embarrassed about the incident. “I should have asked if it’s okay to play.”

Dave looked at her. When he’d asked her earlier if the kids had been good, he’d never imagined that she might have been on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing. All the more surprising was the fact that apparently, the bairns had still been good and heeded her. What surprised him more was that the kids had been so protective about the piano, more protective, in fact, than he had been. He’d found himself sitting at the piano several times before, trailing his fingers lightly over the black and white keys. He’d felt a little closer to Rita as he’d done so, regretting that he didn’t have a single musical bone in his body. Just like Ewan, he’d loved listening to Rita play.

“Well, at least they didn’t drive you out of the house.”

“It was close enough,” Lottie said, crestfallen, and Dave realised that she was expecting another lecture from him.

“It must be awfully out of tune by now,” he said instead.

“Yes,” Ewan said sadly.

“Well, we’ll have to have it tuned, then, won’t we?” Dave said, drawing Ewan closer to him. “Rita would hate that. I should have thought of it earlier.”

“Can Lottie teach me?” Ewan asked, pushing away from him to be able to sit up.

That surprised Dave most of all. How did the young woman do it? She could do anything and the kids would still love her, even break one of the Rules. Whereas he didn’t seem to be able to do anything right since they’d lost Rita.

“If she agrees, yes. Sure,” Dave said. He looked at Lottie. Wherever had Sarah found this wonderful girl? Why she hadn’t gotten on with her first family was beyond him. “Come on, time for bed.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Ewan said, throwing his arm around his neck in a rare display of affection. Dave wrapped his arms around his small body and hugged him close, inhaling the clean-little-boy smell that clung to him. He planted a big kiss on the top of his head before they both rose and he went upstairs with Ewan to tuck him in. His youngest son fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, relieved as he was of the burden of asking permission to learn how to play the piano.

When he returned to the lounge, Lottie shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m so sorry, Dave. I had no idea no one was supposed to touch the piano.”

“It’s not a relic. The kids loved it when Rita played. She was the only one who could played. So,” Dave said. He drew a deep breath. He had loved listening to her as well. Curling up on the sofa with his bairns, listening to Rita play, was one of his fondest memories. He hadn’t realised how much he missed that bit of normalcy, that ritual, until that night. “Rita would hate it being mute. It’s my fault. I should have told you.”

“It shocked the kids.”

“Aye,” Dave sighed. “I had no idea you played.”

Lottie shrugged.

“Thank you for teaching Ewan. But you don’t have to do that,” Dave said.

“I’d love to!” she protested. “I’ve missed it, to be honest.”

“Please, feel free to play whenever you want. After I’ve had the tuner in.”

They were silent for a while.

“So, they obeyed you despite your faux-pas?”

Lottie shrugged.

“I... I might be out more often in the evenings. Would that be all right with you?”

“Of course,” Lottie said. “It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

“Well,” Dave began. “Do tell me if it gets too much.”

Lottie looked at her hands where they rested on her thighs. She was contemplating her words carefully. “You seem very calm and relaxed tonight.”

Dave smiled, ducking his head. He would have liked to be able to tell someone that he knew, for the first time in many weeks, that he would be happy again, that although life as he knew it had ended there was also a new beginning, but he held back. It was far too soon to confide in Lottie, although his children had, apparently, already adopted her, in a manner of speaking. If only life were as simple as that.

“Thank you, Lottie.”

They spent the rest of the evening going through the plans for the remainder of the week, Dave telling her about the photo shoot on Saturday. In the process, he promised her, partly in return for Ewan’s piano lessons, to take professional photos of her. He realised, for the first time, that he would need an assistant in the studio now that Tanya had moved away, particularly to look after the business when he was working and interruptions were less than welcome. The shoot with Rose, however, was one he didn’t want an assistant for. It was very private.

There was a flutter of nervous anticipation in his stomach as he thought about the arrangements he’d made with Rose for Friday. She had agreed to let him see her most vulnerable side; He didn’t know what to expect, but that was part of their deal. All he knew was that Rose seemed to trust him completely in that regard, a notion that touched him deeply. He had no idea what that entailed; they had never discussed his sketches. She would tell him about her ideas, and he would tell her about his and they’d somehow make them work. The _Emptiness Folder_ was a very personal project. She was going to bare her soul to him — who was he to tell her how she was to do that? The two of them had agreed that they wanted the shoot to be as authentic as possible, which meant that both of them made artistic decisions. He had never worked like this before. But then again, he had never trusted any of his customers as much as he trusted Rose. They were kindred souls when it came to experiencing the loss of a loved one.

“Do you think you can keep the kids busy for an entire day?” Dave asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dave,” Lottie said. “But I think they’ll be happy to spend the day with someone outside the family. Someone who’s not grieving for Rita. Do you know what I mean?”

Dave did. The idea saddened him, but he knew perfectly well what Lottie meant, and he didn’t blame her. In fact, he was grateful that the kids got the chance to spend the day without Rita’s shadow cast over everything they did. _Forgive me, Rita, my love_.

He nodded. It was why he’d had such a lovely evening. Rose knew about Rita, about his grief, but never for a moment had it come between them.

“I’m glad you’ve had such a lovely night out,” Lottie said, rising. “Good night, Dave.”

“How do you say that in German?” he asked. “ _Gutenacht_?”

Lottie smiled, correcting him gently. “ _Gute Nacht_.”

“ _Gute Nacht_ , Lottie,” he said.

“Good night, Dave.”

As always after a few glasses of wine, Dave found it hard to fall asleep. The evening’s events kept replaying themselves in his head, most prominently, of course, kissing Rose. He lay on his side of the bed, just two or three inches closer to the middle than he would have with Rita around, staring at the corniced ceiling, or whatever parts of it were visible in the muted light of the bedroom. If he closed his eyes, he could feel Rose’s lips press against his own, and her taste washed over his tongue again, her scent filling his nostrils.

Her reassurances rang in his ears, punctuated as they were with her promises and ensuing kisses. How he could have doubted her was beyond him, but then his eyes fluttered open and he remembered telling her about his five children and neglecting to tell her about Samuel and Lucy.

Rose and he seemed to have an unspoken agreement that they didn’t talk about things outside their own lovely little bubble — at least for now. She seemed very comfortable just to see him — as opposed to the man she had lost — for the time being. If she was content with that, then why did he feel he was betraying his children and at the same time cheating her?

The answer was really very simple: he loved his family. They made him who he was.

Maybe Rose felt the same about the Doctor, or any lingering bit of their shared past.

Maybe it was better for the moment, while the two of them were still healing, recovering from their losses, that they excluded everyone and everything from their bubble. He certainly felt comfortable inside it — as long as he didn’t think about what would happen if someone decided to prick it.

Maybe that was what the two of them needed.

Maybe the spell would be broken by the photo shoot.

The thing was, he loved Rose.

It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

He fell asleep in the knowledge that he had finally admitted to his feelings, with a little help from the wine, perhaps, but it was undeniable now. There was love after love.


	19. Chapter 19

Dave was so shocked when he saw Rose that he wasn’t sure if he’d gasped. Her eyes were practically black with make-up, and the pale blue hoodie and black trousers she was wearing looked too big on her. She looked so young and vulnerable he thought for a moment that she wasn’t Rose at all. She carried an overnight bag with her as well as her huge handbag. When she saw his expression, her face fell and she stopped a couple of steps away from him. He was standing at the cast iron gate with the black paint peeling off it, his equipment by his feet.

“Hello, Dave.”

“Rose.”

She looked down at herself and he took that momentary reprieve to recover and close the distance between them. When he took the overnight bag from her she looked up and smiled shakily at him. Her eyes looked darker than normal with all the make-up she’d put on. Her lashes were so heavy with mascara that he wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open.

Dave hesitated briefly and then he pressed his lips to hers. “Hey,” he said gently.

“It’s for the photos,” Rose explained.

“I know.” Of course he did, it had just been such a shock to see her like this.

They went to the gate and he pushed it open, gesturing for her to precede him. He slung his heavy bag over his shoulder and grabbed the tripod. Rose pushed the gate to after he’d slipped through the gap and they walked up the overgrown gravel drive to the house. The drive made a bend and soon they were hidden from curious glances by the bushes along the fence.

Dave’s heart was beating frantically as he pushed open the door to the abandoned building. It was one of his favourites, along with St Stephen’s Hospital in Paisley and the Priory in Muirbank. He had decided to come here, however, because the house had a lived-in, gothic feeling to it that the other two buildings lacked. There were empty hearths and pale rectangles on the walls where pictures had hung, clouded mirrors and peeling wallpaper. There was a claw-footed tub and the iron skeleton of a bed, and the wind had carried leaves and other debris in through the broken panes of the conservatory. Ivy and other plants were crawling into the house, and when the sun was shining, like it was that day, the light filtering in through the knotholes and gaps in the boarded-up or shuttered windows was gorgeous. The house had a distinct green smell about it, a damp, earthen scent.

Rose stopped short as they stepped into the hall which was open to the first floor and dominated by a massive, banister-less staircase. Strangely enough, the skylight high above them was still intact, but the light was muted as it filtered through a thick crust of grime. “’s beautiful,” she said, turning around to take it all in.

“It’s my favourite.”

He took her bag into one of the less spectacular rooms to give her some privacy to change. “I’m not sure,” he said, turning inside the door, “did you bring this for the shoot?” He had a bag of props in his car, along with his sketchbook.

“Yes. I don’t want all of the photos taken in this outfit,” Rose said, taking the bag from him. “It’s... it’s what I wore the day I died.”

Dave froze at her words.

Rose’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I... to my original universe, to my friends and family there, I’m dead. And so is Mum. As far as they know I died in the Battle of Canary Wharf. There was a prophecy that told me I was going to die in battle. The valiant child. No one said anything about Mum.”

“I had no idea,” Dave managed to say. He had only ever thought about the Doctor, but never about all the other people Rose had left behind.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rose asked. “After all, it’s _your_ project. It’s supposed to be about _you_.”

He opened his mouth to speak but when no words came he smiled and leaned down to kiss her. It was a tentative kiss because he wasn’t sure if he was free to kiss her whenever he wanted. The other night had been wonderful, but there had been lots of wine and...

 _Oh_.

She was kissing him back, snaking her hand into the hair at the back of his neck to draw him closer. He was overwhelmed by her taste — the memory of kissing her had been fading fast, no matter how hard he had tried in the past few days to hold on to it. Maybe he’d tried too hard.

“You’ve inspired me,” he said, looking at her in surprise.

Rose coloured a little and she didn’t look so pale any more for all the black eye make-up. “Good. Then we can do your part afterwards.”

“My part?” he asked.

Rose sighed. “Dave, this is your world, I’m just here because... I want to, but this is about you, yeah?”

Dave nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to be in his own photos.

While he got his props bag from the car Rose explored the building and when he returned she was in the conservatory. It struck him once again that her clothes were far too loose.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Rose turned to look at him. They just looked at each other for a few beats. “I’m not sick. I was heartbroken... am heartbroken, but I’m not sick,” Rose said. “Do you believe me?”

“How long has it been for you?” he asked.

“A few years. Do you believe me?”

“Years,” he repeated flatly. He’d thought her loss was recent; he’d assumed that she had been trying to get back to the Doctor for a much shorter period, perhaps a year.

“Dave,” Rose said.

“Years,” he repeated.

Then she understood. “He taught me never to give up.”

“You’ve loved him all those years?” he asked, dazed. She’d been faithful to the Doctor although there was only the tiniest of chances that she would find her way back to him, and he fell in love with her barely four months after his wife died.

Rose nodded. “I might have lost him years ago, but I never accepted it until... until the accident,” Rose said slowly as if she were following the lead of her thoughts. Her eyes went wide and she looked at him. “It feels more like... I only lost him a month ago.”

“But didn’t...”

“Didn’t everyone tell me it was... futile?” Rose laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, they did. He told me once that if we were separated, I should always wait five and a half hours. It was more like five and a half years. But as far as I’m concerned, I lost him a month ago.” There was a defiance in her voice, which, if not exactly intimidating, suggested that she didn’t easily give up and that she’d defend her own to the last.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea,” he said. It put her outburst in the studio in perspective.

“Does it ever get better, Dave?” she asked, the defiance crumbling like a brittle mask.

“You’ve made me better,” he said.

Rose stared at him for a few moments, then she let out a sound that was in between a laugh and a sob and she turned away from him, hiding her face behind her hands.

What had he done? She _had_ made him better.

“Rose?” he went to her, and when he touched her shoulders he could feel them tremble. “You _have_ made me better.”

Rose groaned. When he turned her around tears were streaming down her cheeks and her face was flushed, her beautiful mouth curling grotesquely to form sobs.

“Rose?” he asked, scared. What had he done? Something he had said must have been wrong, but what it was he had no idea.

Rose braced herself against his chest with her hands. “Who’s looking after me, Dave?” she cried. “I’ve always been the strong one, the valiant child.”

“But no one ever asked you how you really felt,” Dave finished her thoughts. She hadn’t mourned the Doctor yet, not properly, at any rate. In all those years she’d never given up hope. How had she done it? Her love for the Doctor must have been... He shivered. She loved fiercely and unconditionally. Until then he had always thought of his love for Rita to be like that, but his own feelings paled in the face of Rose’s strength. He would never be able to love her as much as she loved him, no matter how hard he tried. Helpless, he drew her into his arms and held her close. To his relief Rose let him.

“I’ll look after you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on her hair. “If you’ll let me.” Neither Rita nor Michelle had ever allowed him to do that; they had never trusted him to comfort them. They had never learned how to be weak around him.

He felt Rose nod against his shoulder, and suddenly he felt lighter than he had in a long time. Rose trusted him, and by admitting to him that she wasn’t as strong as she made everyone else believe, she had admitted her real strength. “I l...” He began, but stopped himself to kiss her again. “I’d love that,” he said instead. “I’ll always be there for you, Rose.”

When she withdrew and looked up at him, her make-up looked like one of Evie’s watercolours after she’d held it up for everyone to see before the colours had dried. The black eye-liner and mascara had run down Rose’s cheeks. “I’ve stained your shirt. Again,” she said, looking at the wet spot on his shirt.

“It’ll wash,” he said, cupping her cheek.

“I’ve bought the cheapest make-up I could find to make sure it smudges well and makes me look like an emo,” Rose said. “Let’s not waste that.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“Go on,” Rose said, sniffling, “tell me what to do.”

“I can’t possibly take your photo like this.”

“Please, Dave. This is about genuine feelings, right?”

She was right, of course, but still he was reluctant to catch her vulnerability in pixels. Nothing of what he had put down in his sketchbook could compare with what he saw before him. To hell with the sketchbook.

Dave guided her to the hall, where she posed for him in a series of shots in her runny make-up and loose clothes. They only spoke when he gave her instructions, and after he had taken the first few pictures his shyness dissolved and he forgot about Rose and he just looked, composed the images, and took the photo. She was beautiful in the gorgeous light.

“Let me try something,” Rose said eventually. “In the conservatory. I’ll join you in a bit.”

He moved to the conservatory, checking the light and making all the necessary preparations as he waited for her. He scattered the debris that had blown in through the damaged panes more evenly, measured the light and adjusted his camera accordingly. The light was perfect, and he could hear the birds and the wind through the holes in the windows. Creepers had wound their way inside, and the dried leaves scattered over the tiled floor broke up the rigidity of the geometric pattern of red, black and white.

“Dave?”

Startled, he turned around. Again, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually gasped as he saw Rose. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in rich, golden waves. She was wearing a domino mask but she hadn’t cleaned up her smudged make-up and it looked as if the shadow of the mask bled into her pale skin. If it hadn’t been for the light catching the sparkle in her eyes they would have been a pair of empty, soulless pits. She had taken off her clothes from the battle and replaced them with a robe.

She was wearing a robe.

“Tell me what to do,” Rose said, her voice shaky.

He swallowed.

“Rose.”

He couldn’t believe she was doing this. Yet at the same time, his imagination ran wild, and he thought of the mirror upstairs; it was one of his very first ideas, but the light in here was so gorgeous, and she’d asked him for this setting. “I’d like to see your hair on the floor, among the leaves,” he explained haltingly.

Rose nodded. She curled up on the floor and after a beat or two he knelt beside her to fan her hair out on the floor. It looked beautiful both in the muted and in the sharp sunlight, on the cold tiles with all the leaves around it. Her hair felt silken and heavy beneath his fingers, and he’d never thought that catching its texture in a picture would be possible, but the light captured it perfectly. He reached for the collar of her robe and pulled it gently away as he wanted to expose her shoulder. There was no bra strap in the way. Dave’s mouth went dry.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He moved around her to take photos from various angles; he could tell, as he moved, that they would turn out well, and as the shutter snapped, he forgot that it was Rose. He had no idea if she was watching him or if her eyes were closed. The dark smudges peeping from the bottom edge of her mask looked great and while he tried to catch her surprisingly angular jawline, he also managed to find the lines that most flattered her.

Once he rocked back onto his heels, Rose sat up, blinking in the light. “Let’s try something,” she said, shrugging off the robe and hurling the heavy terry-cloth garment away from her. She had been naked beneath the robe.

Dave tried to see but not to look. However, he couldn’t, in that first moment of surprise, avoid looking at her smooth skin and the few moles scattered on her creamy skin — moles like the one nestling on the edge of her hairline, just behind her left ear, and the one sitting on the dome of her right shoulder. Her nipples had hardened in the cool air of the room, sunlit though it was, and he could see her ribs more prominently than he would have expected, just like her hipbones, and — oh heavens — the curls between them. He shifted uncomfortably as his pants began to become just that little bit tighter.

“If I turn like this, can you see my scars?” Rose asked, making his eyes snap up to hers. Her cheeks glowed slightly pink. He moved around, but the light was so bright on the right side of her body that he could see only a hint of her scars.

“Only a wee bit. I can always remove the rest with my computer programme,” he reassured her.

Rose smiled at him. “Go ahead then.”

He draped her hair over her left shoulder and found the perfect angle. The generous light worked magic on her body, hiding her scars in its glare while at the same time highlighting the dark moles scattered down her back and outlining her contours against the dark background. It pooled lusciously in the curved line of her spine, and made the muscles of her left side and her right arm glow as she propped herself up.

Dave moved silently, focused on _what_ he saw rather than _who_ he saw. He moved away from her to capture her fragility in the huge expanse of the conservatory, to get across the feeling of emptiness and loss.

For a few moments he stopped and looked, despite himself, at her scars. He watched her as she stood and moved towards the door. The right side of her back looked like a relief map with ridges and valleys, with smooth plains in between. The webbing of her skin was brindled, the effect of it heightened in the dappled light, and he wondered what stories this map on her body held. He wanted to trail his fingers over it and listen to her stories.

The door to the conservatory squeaked on rusty hinges and he snapped back to reality. He stepped up towards the dirty panes so he could take her picture through the cobwebs and grime.

When they were done, he was so calm and sure of what he wanted that she granted his request that she stand before the clouded, full-length mirror in one of the upstairs rooms without comment. He took a couple of photos of her patchy reflection, then they moved on to the bathtub, and to the skeleton of a bed. It was almost painful to see how the springs dug into her skin, but Rose didn’t seem to mind. They worked in almost complete silence as Rose posed. Dave had never felt more comfortable during a shoot.

At the end, he captured her smudged face with and without her mask. At first it wasn’t easy to work with her mask off, but he soon overcame his reservations and took some beautiful pictures of her. “Clean your face up?” he asked her after a while. Rose did, and she looked even more vulnerable without any make-up on, particularly with the peeling wallpaper as a background.

When he finally lowered his camera, he smiled at her.

“How are you feeling?”

Rose pulled her robe on, tightening the knot. “Good,” she said, smiling. “It’s your turn now, Dave.”

He stared at her. “What?” he squeaked.

“Your turn,” Rose said, handing him her mask.

He gulped. “Can I just... I’d like to take another photo of you. In front of the mirror, with your clothes on.”

“All right,” Rose said.

He had her stand in the same position as she had when she’d stood there naked. He would need his computer to finish the picture, but in his head, it was all there.

“Can I see you now?” Rose asked as he was satisfied with what he’d gotten.

The _Emptiness Folder_ had been about his feelings, but so far he had only portrayed Rose’s. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Rose’s tears had been real when they’d set out. “I’m not sure I’m ready to,” he said. “I don’t feel right. I’m far too excited by how great this has been.”

Although Rose smiled she couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I’ll just change then,” she said.

His heart constricted. “Aye.”

Instead of packing up his things, however, he looked at the shots he had taken on the screen of his camera, quite satisfied with what he saw. He couldn’t wait to see the pictures on the big screen of his computer.

“Are they any good?” Rose asked as she joined him where he was sitting on the stairs in the hall.

“I think so, yes. Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to have a go yourself?” she asked. “I know I’m useless with a camera, but...”

He switched off his camera with a sigh. “I think today ought to be just about you. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said. “Actually, I feel a lot better than I have in ages.”

He wanted to kiss her, but something held him back. It felt inappropriate, somehow, after she had bared herself to him like she had. He was in complete awe of her trust in him. At the same time, he felt giddy that she should have chosen him of all people. Those certainly weren’t feelings that belonged in the _Emptiness Folder_.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, standing.

“What?”

-:-

“Take off your clothes,” she repeated.

She saw that he wanted to tell her no. He had already opened his mouth when she covered his lips with her fingers. It was the first intimate touch since they had kissed a couple of hours earlier.

“Let’s just see what happens, yeah?”

She dropped her fingers from his lips as he nodded, lingering a little on his full bottom lip. For a moment Rose was tempted to kiss him, but then she saw the look in his eyes and she stopped herself. “I haven’t packed my robe yet. It might be a bit small for you, but it’s better than nothing. If you’d rather,” she offered.

“And the mask?” he asked, his eyes darkening.

“That too. If you want it.”

“It’s only fair, innit?”

Rose smiled, and the three words nearly rolled over her tongue. But they didn’t. It would be strange to see him naked while she was fully clothed, in her own clothes this time. What was more, she wasn’t a professional like him. She didn’t have much of an idea what to do with the camera. As he’d taken her photos she had either had her eyes closed or was watching him intently as he worked, fully focused on what he was doing. Not one of his glances had been unprofessional, except for maybe the first few moments when he’d seen her naked. Rose wasn’t sure she did have that kind of discipline in her, but she also knew that he needed these pictures of himself in the empty rooms badly.

“The bathtub,” he said, his voice coming from behind her.

Rose turned around and saw him in her robe, his toes digging in the rough floorboards. She raised the camera and pressed the shutter release. There was a satisfying click and his feet appeared in the small display. Rose nodded. Her robe wasn’t that small on him — she always bought over-sized men’s ones because she loved snuggling up in the soft white material after a bath.

“There’s something I need to get first,” he said, walking towards his props bag, from which he got a bottle of water and a neatly folded sheet of white linen.

“Do you mind if I take your photo through the conservatory window and in the mirror? In the hall, perhaps? I’d like to see what you saw when I was in the viewfinder,” Rose said.

“Only if you share your mascara with me.”

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“I liked the black bleeding into your skin,” he said. “I’d like to try that.”

Rose stared at him. Eventually, she nodded and went to get her cheap eye make-up and her favourite compact from her handbag. Biting her lip, she gestured for him to sit as she stood. She tilted his head up a bit and dusted his freckled skin with her compact. “Look up,” she said, uncapping the eye-liner. Dave twitched as she touched his lower lid with the pointy brush. Rose tutted. “Hold still. I’ve done this before.” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously, but when she continued, he didn’t flinch. She applied the eye-liner and then told him to look down so she could coat his lashes with mascara. “Don’t close your eyes,” she instructed him. “You have beautiful lashes,” she said, brushing them with the mascara.

Dave grunted.

“There,” she said, stepping back. “Not half bad, I’d say.” She gave him her compact so he could look at himself in the mirror.

His eyes went wide as he looked at himself. “I’d be scared of me if I met me in a street at night,” he said.

“I think it makes your eyes even more beautiful. In a strange, sexy way.” She handed him the mask.

He slipped the mask on and ruffled his hair. “What now?” he asked nervously.

“The conservatory first, you won’t need to... cry for that.”

She saw him through the dirty glass, an indistinct shape in places, but other parts of his body were clearly visible. Like his navel and the dark line of hair beneath it; a nipple and his fingers; the curls at the base of his penis. She raised the camera, trying to see but not to look. Heaven knew how hard it was for him; it hadn’t been easy for her, but she trusted him. He was a professional.

They moved to the mirror, where she saw his backside; her eyes travelled down the long line of his spine and stopped at the pair of dimples nestled at its base. He had a perfect, bite-able arse, she thought, colouring. Her eyes caught his in the clouded mirror. He cocked his head a little.

“I just like what I see,” Rose mumbled, colouring even more. She cleared her throat and raised the camera to see him through the lens. At least, that helped.

She turned away as he slipped on the robe between shoots.

They did the bathtub shots next, and she captured the black soles of his feet dangling over the edge, his knees poking over the rim, his head propped on the edge, the eye holes black and lifeless. They were getting there.

“I have an idea,” Rose said. “Meet me downstairs in a bit.”

She rushed down the stairs. If her memory served her right, she still had one of Tony’s toy cars and one of his smaller teddies in her bag. She’d meant to send them back to him, but she was glad that she had forgotten. She set the two items out on the floorboards in the room with the fireplace. Then she called Dave.

He joined her, following her voice, and when he saw the still life she had arranged, he stopped dead. The sunlight glinted on the car and made the teddy’s dark eyes twinkle, but the toys looked so out of place in the empty room it was hard to look at them. They looked like grave markers.

And they did their job.

Dave held his breath.

The teddy keeled over.

And Dave burst into tears.

Rose had hoped it would work, but his reaction was totally unexpected. He went to the still life in the middle of the room, dropping to his knees. He picked up the teddy to put it right, but it didn’t work.

“His name’s Paul,” Rose said, remembering how important the toys’ names were to her brother.

“What?” Dave turned around, the first black tear appearing beneath his mask. “What did you say?”

“His name’s Paul.”

Dave stared at the cuddly bear in his hands.

Rose moved towards him, feeling cruel to be taking his picture in such a vulnerable situation, but also knowing that this was exactly what they had come for. Dave doubled over, clutching the toy to him.

Whatever she had said, it must have triggered something powerful inside him, just like his words about making him better had. Rose’s heart constricted. She felt horrible knowing that her words had caused him to fall apart like this.

She put the camera down carefully and crouched next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dave turned towards her instantly, leaning into her. He was shuddering, but his tears came silently. She pressed a kiss to the bit of forehead between the mask and his hairline, rocking gently.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, pulling back from her. “Let’s... let’s do this.”

Rose nodded and picked up his camera as he shrugged out of the robe and gave her Tony’s toys.

The black make-up looked ghostly as it ran down in rivulets from beneath the mask. Dave’s skin looked even paler than it was in the dimness of the room; she had set up one of the reflector panels to make the most of the natural light in the room, just like he had.

He sat on the floor, hugging his knees to him as he hid his face, relaxing a little as he drew a breath. She caught the light playing in his hair when it flopped onto the grain of the floorboard as he curled up on his side, and it was with great effort that she refrained from kissing the spot beneath his ear. She captured his back as he curled up on the floor, and it was only when he stood that she noticed the wetness pooling in her own eyes.

Dave touched the peeling, flaking paint, and the shutter clicked. “Drape the sheet over me,” Dave said, his voice thick. He had stopped crying, but the evidence of his outburst was still there. Rose hurried to get the sheet and did as he said. “Now pour the water over me. I want to see what it looks like, against the wall.”

Again, Rose obliged him. Dave gasped as the cool water soaked the sheet and made it stick to his body like a second skin. He was more naked now than he had been before, and Rose looked away as she saw how the sensation of the wet material affected him. He was growing hard.

He turned his face away, into the shadows.

“Come on,” he said gently, and Rose released the shutter. The wet folds, plastered against his body, were indeed an interesting contrast to the chipped background. She moved and experimented a little, ignoring his arousal until she decided to be brave and captured it as well. This was about Dave, after all.

Then it was over.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling the material away and bunching it up in front of him. Rose passed him the robe. She could see the goosebumps on his skin.

“I have the make-up remover in my bag,” she said. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Rose?”

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Thank you.”


	20. Chapter 20

They packed silently, and Dave insisted on giving Rose a lift home when he learned that she’d taken a cab to the house because her car was at the garage. He was reluctant to leave her just yet, and when Rose accepted his offer gladly he knew that she felt the same way. “I’d like to drive, though. You still seem a bit upset and you need some time to compose yourself,” Rose said, holding her hand out for the car keys.

Dave nodded slowly and gave them to her. She was right. He was in no shape to go home, but neither could he go to the studio where he’d be by himself among photos of his family. When he’d seen the toys on the floor, something inside him had snapped, particularly when Rose had told him the teddy’s name. She had, just like he had earlier, found exactly the right words to break down his defences without reaching out to him telepathically.

Rose steered his red Volvo safely through the city to her house, where she pulled into the gravel drive as if it were her own car rather than his family car. He wondered briefly if she needed to worry about nosy neighbours. “I’ll make us some tea,” she said. “In the mean time, you can hop into the shower.”

A shower was a great idea. Although it was a warm day, it had been cold inside the old house, and the water hadn’t exactly helped to improve things. The wetness soaking through the sheet and spreading against his skin had aroused him despite the cruel temperature. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, leaning over the gear box towards her. They kissed briefly.

“Your lips are cold,” Rose said softly as she withdrew, casting her eyes down as sadness darkened her face.

“Sorry.”

The moment of sadness had passed as quickly as it had come, and Dave wondered what memory he had revived this time. “Tea,” she said, smiling.

The hot water felt wonderful on his body and he would have liked to enjoy it cascading down on him for much longer but he didn’t want to take advantage of Rose’s generosity. Her shower was simply gorgeous. It was a proper shower stall with the right fixtures, very unlike his own old-fashioned combination of shower and bathtub with a shower curtain that forever stuck to his bum when he came too near it, which happened often because he had to crouch a little to fit beneath the shower head. Once he had redecorated the kitchen, he decided, the bathroom would be next. Maybe he’d even find space for a second one so they could avoid the chaos every morning, especially now that they had Lottie living with them.

His skin was pink when he stepped out of the steamy shower stall, and he felt much better. He rubbed himself down with the large towel Rose had given him. He’d had to use her flowery shower gel again. He loved that scent. He gave his hair a vicious rub to dry it as best he could and slipped his clothes back on.

A delicious smell greeted him in the kitchen. That was definitely more than just tea. Rose was cooking. For him. For the second time that week.

She turned around when she sensed his presence and he dropped his gaze to his stocking feet, aware that he had been staring at her.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“We haven’t had anything to eat all day,” she explained. “I’m not sure though if you’re in the mood for food. It’s one of my favourites and you love pasta, so I thought comfort food it is.” She stopped herself when she noticed she was babbling.

“You’re amazing, do you know that?” he said, closing the distance between them. He bent to kiss her. To be able to do that was still very strange and he hoped she wouldn’t stiffen at the gesture, but instead she leaned against him and kissed him back.

“”Not really. I’m just hungry and following doctor’s orders. And Mickey’s.”

“The lower-case doctor’s?” he asked. “Sorry.”

Rose laughed. “Yes, the lower-case one’s. It’s much easier with you around, though.”

His eyes went wide. “It is?”

“Most of the time I’m just too lazy to make anything, or I’ll put it off until I’m not hungry any more. But above all meals taste better when you can share them with someone.”

He nodded slowly. “I haven’t eaten by myself in such a long time. Apart from the occasional meal when I’m working,” he said. It wasn’t always a special meal when he cooked. Most of the time it was a chore that needed to be done, rather than something enjoyable.

“I guess cooking for your family is an entirely different affair,” Rose said.

“Yes, although I try to make it... you know, something important. Mealtime is when we all sit down together to discuss everyday stuff. Otherwise it’s just too chaotic and people feel left out,” he said.

“So, would you like some?” she asked. She bit her lip. “Here I go assuming you have all the time in the world.”

“As a matter of fact, I do have time. I’ve told Lottie not to wait for me because I had no idea how long the shoot would take,” he said. Her delighted grin made his heart melt. “I’ve promised the kids a proper weekend, though.”

Rose nodded in understanding. He could tell it wasn’t easy for her, and that, like him, she wanted to spend more time together. They needed to find a way to make this work. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but she gave him a pleading look that stopped him. “I’d love some,” he said although he wasn’t really hungry. His body was still singing with the rush that the photo shoot had given him.

This time, they sat down to eat at the breakfast bar facing the stove, and they ate their pasta in comfortable silence. It occurred to him that it was just as he’d wished for that evening in the rooftop garden, when all he had wanted was to spend time with her without the need to talk. Although he would have liked to sit facing her, it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t because that would have made him say things he wasn’t ready to say, and she wasn’t ready to hear.

After their meal they went to the lounge where he sank into the welcoming depths of Rose’s gigantic sofa. Much to his delight, she joined him there with two mugs of hot tea. He took in the late afternoon sun’s glow bathing the room as he wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic. In spite of the shower and the food, he still felt a bit cold. When he looked at Rose after a careful sip, he found her awash in the wonderful light. “You are beautiful,” he couldn’t help saying.

Rose blushed.

He reached out to play with an errant lock of her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes, “for making you cry this morning. I hope I’ll never do that again.”

“It was good, actually. I needed it.”

Dave lowered his gaze to the caramel-coloured contents of his mug. He wanted to know what he had said to make her fall apart, but he wasn’t sure if asking her was a good idea.

“The Doctor kept telling me that I made him better,” Rose eventually said.

“Oh.” There he was again, the swashbuckling alien in his magic box. And Rose had known what was on his mind. For a moment he wondered if Rose had subtly sneaked into his mind, or if she had just learned to read him already. He closed his eyes to banish the thought.

“I’m not comparing you to him,” Rose said softly. “It’s a memory that I treasure.”

“It’ll be a while before I’ll get used to me being a reminder of him,” he said, looking up and smiling at her bravely. Memories were all they had now that Rita and the Doctor were gone. It would have been heartless and selfish to expect her never to mention these memories of the Doctor again, because he was sure that he would want to share memories of Rita with her. “I’m glad he thought so highly of you.”

“He did love me, Dave,” Rose said. “He just... he had his own set of rules, and I respected them, although I never agreed to some of them. The Never Look Back one, for example.”

“Are you telling me that he doesn’t want to remember you, now that you’re gone?” he asked, incredulous.

“He does, but he won’t admit to it. You see, a man who’s lived that long needs to protect himself. I understand that now.”

Dave wasn’t sure he agreed with her yet. Maybe after a while, when he’d had time to think things over, he’d understand.

“May I ask who Paul is?” Rose asked, sipping her tea.

“He’s my oldest son.”

She nodded. “I...”

“It’s okay, Rose. He’s fine. It was just... you found my Achilles heel. I’m so scared of losing my kids, I...” He interrupted himself, unsure of how much he wanted to tell her, how much more reality their relationship could bear.

“I’m not a Mum,” Rose said, “but I have one who’s terrified of losing my brother and me.” There seemed to be something else she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. She laughed nervously. “We need to discuss this before we can take it any further.”

“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the sound.

“Can we just... can this just be about us? I know each of us comes with a baggage, and I’d love to meet all your kids, I really do, but for now I was hoping we could be selfish. It might not be a good idea, because our baggage makes us who we are, but for now... I’d just like it to be about us,” Rose said, taking a deep breath and a fortifying sip.

“I’m glad you see us like this,” he said, “as people with a past.” He smiled.

“It’s true.”

He was about to reply when he felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his jeans.

“Take it,” Rose encouraged him when she saw his hand fly to his pocket. She uncurled her leg from beneath her and stood to give him some privacy. She saw his eyes go wide as he checked the caller ID.

“Lucy, sweetheart,” he said, raising the phone to his ear. It had been a week since they’d spoken to each other. Stuart had called to let him know that Lucy was fine, but other than that he hadn’t had any news from Edinburgh. While at first the idea of not knowing how Lucy was had made him deeply uncomfortable, he also understood that she needed the distance. From the corner of his eye he could see Rose leave for the kitchen.

“Hi.” She sounded unsure.

“How are you?” he asked, moving towards the bay window with his mug. From there he could see out over Rose’s unkempt garden.

“I’m great,” Lucy said. “The new school’s great; it’s a fresh start. They don’t keep going on about Mum.”

Dave squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head. The notion hurt, but he could also understand how difficult the constant attention had been for her. It had become so unbearable that she’d skipped registration and had only gone to her lessons. “That’s good.”

“The orchestra is much better, and Stuart has arranged for private violin lessons. It’s the same teacher Alice has.”

She hadn’t called Stuart Dad. But neither had she called him Dad. Dave wasn’t sure what to make of that. What was important was that she sounded happy and relaxed, as if she could breathe again after the constraints of her situation. He hummed. “That’s great.”

There was a short pause.

“I’ve got to go,” Lucy said eventually.

“We miss you, Lucy. All of us.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Again there was a pause as though she were unsure what to make of his last statement. She rang off as he said goodbye. With a sigh, he returned his phone to his pocket and finished his tea. It was good to know, of course, that apparently she had adjusted so well to life in the posh Edinburgh town house. Maybe he’d worried too much about how she’d fit in that very different environment. Stuart had so much money, and his whole place, although tasteful, oozed wealth. Everything had been just so, neatly decorated and meticulously clean and tidy. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find it in an edition of _Homes and Gardens_.

Putting his mug to his lips he found it empty. He sighed and went to find Rose in the kitchen, where he could hear her pottering about. When she noticed him standing in the door, she smiled at him. “Everything all right?”

“Aye.”

“How are things with Lucy? I’m sorry, I heard when you said hello.”

“She’s great, thanks,” he said. Rose smiled at him. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t asking so much what she was doing, which was obvious, washing the dishes, as much as why she was doing it.

“I thought I’d tidy the kitchen a bit while you were on the phone to your daughter,” she said, implying that she’d expected the call to take much longer than it had. He would have preferred it to take longer, too. “I’m almost done.”

“Maybe I should go,” he offered.

She looked crestfallen. “Why?”

He sighed. Lucy’s call had roused him from the dream-like state he had been in since that morning and reminded him of his responsibilities in the real world.

“I was hoping we’d... spend some more time together. On the sofa.”

“Your sofa is brilliant,” he said.

She looked away and scrubbed the pot. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“I really should go.”

“No, please don’t,” she said, putting the pot on the draining board, careful not to upset the plates and glasses she’d already put there. The overturned pot, however, moved after she’d let go of it, and the dishes beneath it adjusted with a deafening clatter. “Please,” Rose said after she’d made sure that nothing had broken. She dried off her hands and reached for the pot of hand lotion on the windowsill behind the sink. She looked so disappointed that he changed his mind. If he left now he’d likely fall into a bottomless pit over the call with Lucy, and Rose looked raw enough to need some company as well.

“Let me,” he said, as she was about to massage the lotion into her skin. He took her by the wrist and pulled her into the lounge, where he sat on the sofa with one leg tucked under. Rose sat mirroring his position and held out her hands for him. He massaged the lotion into her hands, running his thumbs over the tender skin of her palms and the ridges of the back of her hand, sliding his fingers along hers. When he was finished he placed a kiss in each palm and inhaled her scent.

“Thank you,” Rose breathed. She cupped his cheek with her hand and brushed her thumb over his lips. “Thank you for today, Dave.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too.”

“Something’s missing, though.”

“What is that?”

She kissed him.

“How could I forget about that?” he asked, looking at her dazedly. How far was he willing to go with her that afternoon? He wanted her, but something held him back. It was too soon, no matter what his body told him. His reaction to the sheet and the water earlier had, in part, been a reaction to her. The whole situation had been so erotic that, had they not been so vulnerable and caught in their own emotional worlds, he’d have laid her down on that sheet and made love to her.

He pulled her towards him. Just feeling her warmth against him was reassuring, and as he lay back in the cushions, he gave himself over to her and let her set the pace. He was careful not to drift his fingers over her scars, which seemed still a bit raw, and threaded his fingers into her heavy hair instead. Of course he grew hard against her as they deepened their kisses and the promise of more, the fantasy of making love to her, became almost overpowering.

Rose stopped eventually and tucked her head into the crook of his chest and chin, sliding a bit off him as she rested her hand on his chest. His heart was racing, but he was relieved to feel Rose’s heart beat no more slowly against his arm.

“This is lovely,” Rose said drowsily.

He guffawed inwardly. Lovely didn’t quite begin to cover it, but for lack of proper words he hummed in agreement.

“I was wondering,” Rose began after a while. He’d thought she’d dozed off, going by her much calmer and very regular breathing. “If we could arrange for some time off during the week, when we can see each other and just shut out the outside world?” She propped herself up to look at him.

“You make it sound like an affair.”

“I know. But doesn’t it feel a bit like it? We can take our time, of course.”

“You’re worried about the others being ready for me to fall in love again,” he said.

Rose bit her lip. “Sorry. That makes it sound even worse. I don’t mean to offend your family and friends.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. I think it’s a good idea; it keeps things simple so we can get to know each other,” he said.

She smiled in relief. “Yeah. My schedule will get busier, and I might have to cancel on short notice. But I’ll try to work everything around it.”

“You don’t just work for the Heritage Trust Fund, do you?” he asked, remembering the investigation she had mentioned at their first lunch.

“No, but I can’t tell you any more than that. It’s... standard procedure.”

He sighed. “You’re a very mysterious woman, Rose. In a good way,” he hastened to add.

“I’ll tell you, but until then you have to trust me and not take it personally when I cancel, yeah?”

“Aye. Something might come up at home or at work for me, so same here,” he said, brushing back her hair to kiss her.

And so they made plans for Wednesday afternoons to be _theirs_. Time together for lunch, or perhaps more, but mostly just something to look forward to. He didn’t want to gloss over the fact that he felt like he was betraying his family in a way. He needed Rose to himself to get to know her properly, to make sure that they were serious, that their relationship would work. Although he trusted Rose when she told him that she was seeing him and not the Doctor, he knew it would take a long while for him to be sure that she wouldn’t wake up one day and decide that he wasn’t enough for her. Conversely, he wasn’t sure if he could deal with Rose’s status in society and the interest it garnered. It wasn’t about him feeling inferior to her; he didn’t want to attract the general public’s interest, and he wasn’t sure how he’d deal with the attention that he’d undoubtedly get if word got out that Rose Tyler was seeing him. Neither did he want the bairns exposed to the media. Rita would have his head for it, protective as she was of them.

But for now, he had Rose all to himself.


	21. Chapter 21

Rose found it impossible to go to sleep that night. She’d gone to bed with a book, but she’d been unable to follow the story. At one point she had dropped the book onto her stomach and turned to stare at the pair of hand prints on her wall. Her breakdown, as well as Dave’s, still amazed her; it had done her good, and she hoped that Dave felt the same. He had looked a bit shocked when she’d met him in her clothes from her last day on Earth and her heavy make-up. When she’d put it on that morning she hadn’t recognised herself. The Rose looking back at her in the bathroom mirror was a completely different person, and Dave had reacted accordingly to meeting the old Rose. What she’d underestimated, however, was how much her body had changed. She had noticed that the clothes were loose, but she hadn’t realised how much weight she’d lost until Dave had gasped sharply. She had driven herself mercilessly; Mickey and Jake had told her frequently to eat more, but when she was in the middle of something she simply forgot about food. And then there had been the accident, and the two weeks in hospital.

She sat up and leaned against the headboard, reaching for the glass of red wine on her bedside table. Taking off her clothes for the shoot had been surprisingly easy, and now that she thought about it, the idea of her scars being visible in the photos didn’t bother her that much. Maybe they needed to be seen. They were an important part of her; she had received them as she’d been separated, for good, from her old life. She’d have to call Dave to tell him not to edit the shots.

Taking Dave’s pictures had been a very strange experience, embarrassing as well as arousing, particularly when he had hardened beneath the wet sheet as she draped it over him. The sight had sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine and it had pooled, much to her shame, between her legs, hot and titillating. Dave, in contrast, hadn’t seemed bothered by her nakedness at all. He’d probably just seen her as part of a work of art, whereas she lacked the professionalism to differentiate between the man and the subject of the photo.

She had enjoyed taking his photo and applying the techniques and angles he had used when he had photographed her; she hadn’t seen much, but when she had been able to watch him, she had observed him closely. He had been so focused on what he was doing that she thought very few things could have roused him from his concentration. Being _absorbed_ seemed the perfect caption for a photo of Dave working. She had fallen in love with him a little more then, envying him the ability to lose himself so completely in his work. When he worked, the stakes weren’t as high — she stopped herself. She was belittling what he did for a living, as well as his art. Saving lives and finding meaning in life (or making life just that bit more pleasant) just didn’t compare.

Rose just wished, sometimes, that the stakes in her job weren’t always quite so high. But she also knew she needed the thrill, no matter how fascinating she found Dave’s work and art. Today had certainly been about art, and about healing. It had been more important than anything else she had ever done before.

She couldn’t wait for him to show her the pictures.

On Monday, she found the remodelling of the Torchwood part of the Priory nearly finished. A large portion of the buildings remained empty for the time being since they’d decided to wait and see what other facilities they might need later on. There were a few bedrooms for guests or for themselves, when they were unable to go home for the night. There was a kitchen, bathrooms and a common room. Rose liked these rooms because they were bright and sunny and looked out over the river. The infirmary was nearly finished, and Dominic was beside himself with pride and enthusiasm. The medics who had come up from London to introduce him to the advanced medical facilities smiled at his boyish behaviour when Rose checked on them.

Her office was finished as well, and although she’d seen the plans and animated models, the result still stunned her. While it looked modern and very professional it was a very warm, welcoming room. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, trailing her fingers over the inviting sofa. The wall behind it was still empty, and she wondered if Dave would sell her one of his photos. She’d seen some of them reproduced on canvas at his studio, and she’d really liked them.

“It’s nice,” Mickey admitted, smiling from where he stood leaning against the door frame.

“Oi!”

Mickey laughed. “It _is_ gorgeous. Perfect for you.”

They looked at each other for a few moments.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, emphasising the last word. He’d helped her with the Dimension Cannon, but he’d never made a secret of his dislike for her project. “I really am.”

“So am I,” Rose said. “Come in and close the door, will you?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, doing what he’d been told.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, sitting on the sofa.

Mickey grinned knowingly.

“It’s not about Dominic.”

“Oh.”

“It is about a man, though,” she continued. Mickey joined her on the sofa. “Do you remember the man who helped me that night?”

Mickey furrowed his brow. “Vaguely. He was very flustered, wanted to call the ambulance. He seemed nice — oh.”

Rose smiled broadly. Although she wasn’t ready to tell the world about Dave, she really did feel like they needed to get to know one another first, it felt kind of good to be able to tell someone about him.

“You’ve fallen in love with him?” Mickey asked sceptically. “The guy you thought was the Doctor?” She didn’t miss the underlying question: _Do you think that’s wise?_

“He looks a lot like the Doctor, it wasn’t just my imagination. But he’s a completely different man,” Rose said, serious. She told Mickey about Dave.

“Does Dominic know?”

“I told him when we were in the desert.”

They sat in silence for a while. “Are you sure it’s about Dave rather than the Doctor?”

“Very. That’s why I need your help,” Rose said. “We’d like to get to know each other better before we take the next step — telling our families. That’s why we’ve decided to take Wednesday afternoons off.”

Mickey bit his lip.

“It’s not about... you know,” Rose said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Mickey opened his mouth to say something but closed it when the right words wouldn’t come. Eventually, he settled on, “Five kids is a lot of baggage.”

“Being Rose Tyler is a lot of baggage,” she retorted.

He nodded. “I see. So what I do is make sure that you get as many of your Wednesday afternoons off as possible.”

Rose smiled nervously. “That would be great, yeah.”

“Anything for you, love,” he said, moving to hug her.

“Thank you, Mickey.”

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

“I’ve asked him to work for the Heritage Trust Fund,” she said, and, when she saw his expression, she added, “He’s a photographer, and the brochure needs a new design. We won’t really work together. Plus, when the media ask how we met, I can give them a plausible story — plausible because it’s true.”

Mickey nodded slowly, repeating his question. “When do I get to meet him?”

“I’d like you to meet with him on Wednesday when he signs the contract, and I thought we’d have lunch together afterwards.”

“As I said, anything for you, love,” Mickey said, kissing her cheek. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling in relief. Until then she hadn’t realised how nervous she had been about telling Mickey about Dave. And then it had spilled out of her all at once. She just hoped that Dave and Mickey would get on. In the beginning Mickey thought the Doctor had stolen her from him although they both knew that things between them had been practically over before she’d met the Doctor. They had never fought and still spent a lot of time together, and there had been a point when their relationship had become more like a friendship with extras. Rose still had no idea if she’d been the first to realise and acknowledge the fact; she doubted it.

Just after she’d called Dave to confirm the appointment to sign the contract and sent a copy of it to his lawyer, her mobile rang. It was Lucy’s number; for a beat Rose felt guilty because she hadn’t kept in touch with the clearly troubled girl, and she took a deep breath before she answered the call.

“I’m with my father’s family now,” Lucy said after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries.

“That sounds like a giant leap,” Rose said. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s great,” Lucy said, but there was something in her voice that told Rose all wasn’t as peachy as she wanted it to be.

“And?” Rose asked.

“It’s strange living with two girls,” she said.

“So you have two half-sisters now?”

Lucy laughed. “Three, and two half-brothers. The youngest used to make me feel bad about being a half-sister. But Alice and Gemma are different.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “That’s a whole lot of family you’ve got. How does your old family feel about you leaving? Do you still see them, at school?”

“No, I’m in Edinburgh now. But I do miss them,” she added softly.

“What about your dad?”

“I rang him the other day.”

“I’d suggest we meet to talk, but I’m a bit busy over here,” Rose said, cringing a little. She must sound as if she wanted to shake Lucy off.

“I left after a fight,” Lucy said. “And I still feel bad about it.”

“Did you leave because of it?”

“I told Dad I hated Mum for leaving us the way she did,” Lucy said in a very soft voice. “I’m so ashamed of saying that. And in front of the others too.”

Rose’s heart went out to her. “Lucy, sweetheart, that’s understandable. I hated my love as well, for leaving me.” Rose bit her lip. This was way too much information for the girl, plus it was misleading. But the truth was there had been times, at the beginning of her exile in this universe, when she had hated Pete for rescuing her and the Doctor for looking on and screaming instead of doing something... Doctor-y and saving the world and the girl. “It will get better.”

“It’ll just take time,” Lucy said, defeated, and Rose’s heart skipped a beat. Hadn’t Lucy just told her living with her natural father felt great? “I was wondering whether to write to them, to apologise.”

“That’s a great idea,” Rose said.

“I was thinking of a letter. To make it more personal?”

“And more sincere, yeah,” Rose agreed. “That’s a great idea.”

Lucy thanked her, a relieved laugh in her voice as they chatted about life in Edinburgh until Jake came in to let Rose know there was an emergency. Although Rose was loathe to cut her conversation with Lucy short like this, the girl was very understanding, now that the reason why she had called had been discussed.

As they were on their way to the port, Rose couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Lucy seemed very familiar and that there was something very important she was missing about the girl. However, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. The emergency demanded the whole team’s full attention until the small hours of Tuesday night. By the time they bunked down in the Priory’s guest rooms, Rose had completely forgotten about Lucy. When Rose went back to work on Wednesday morning her hair was still damp and she wished for nothing more than a few hours’ more sleep or the strongest legally available coffee in town.

Dave was due to arrive any minute when she gratefully took one of the mugs of coffee Jake had fetched for the team from Bertie’s. When Dave turned up a couple of minutes later, Rose met him at the grand entrance of the Priory.

He was clutching the chin strap of his helmet in his left hand, and there were deep furrows in his brow. Rose tensed immediately, wondering what had happened, wondering if he’d come to tell her that he couldn’t possibly work for the Heritage Trust Fund after all, or, worse, that couldn’t be with her any more.

She rose bravely on the balls of her feet to kiss him lightly in greeting. “Hello, Dave.”

“The address is correct after all,” he said.

“Why, yes,” Rose replied, confused.

“I’d thought it looked familiar when you gave it to me, but I hadn’t realised it was the Priory.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It is... was one of my favourite abandoned buildings,” he said, smiling as he shook off his confusion. “But what better place for the Heritage Trust Fund to use than the Priory, eh?”

“We haven’t used all of the rooms,” Rose said apologetically. She led the way to her office, taking in the newness of the place like Dave did. She hadn’t been able to appreciate how bright it was. At the same time, the halls and rooms had retained their ancient feeling, and she knew that once the smell of fresh paint and wood had evaporated it would smell like snuffed candles, warm wax and cool stone again.

She took Dave to her office.

“Nice place,” he said. “Although that wall looks awful.” He put his helmet down on the wide armrest of the dark brown leather sofa.

“Yeah, I was thinking of commissioning some artwork from a local artist,” Rose said. “I’m really shy and he seems the modest type, so I’m still working up my nerve.”

“Oh.”

Rose smiled, tucking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth. “I was talking about you, you plum.”

Dave turned around, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“I’d love to have one of your photos up on that wall,” she said, closing the distance between them. She kissed him lightly.

“It’d better not be one of the shoot from Friday, though,” he said.

“Why not?”

“They’re... gorgeous,” he admitted.

“You’ve already worked through them?” Rose asked. Now that he mentioned it she noticed that he looked tired, tired in that good way, the way you felt after a great job done.

“I couldn’t resist,” he said. “They’re gorgeous and upsetting and... some of them are really hot.”

“I couldn’t imagine what those would be,” Rose teased him.

His eyes went wide.

Rose laughed and kissed him. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Who says I’m talking about the photos of me?” he growled softly.

It was her turn to do a double take.

A knock on the door stopped her from retorting. Mickey pushed open the door. She’d asked him to join Dave and her when they signed the contract, and she hoped he’d stay for lunch at Tony’s, where he’d meet Dominic and Jake. She really wanted her team to know about Dave, particularly since they had expressed so much concern about him being the Doctor’s spitting image. Rose saw no other way of convincing them that she was with Dave because he was Dave and not because of his looks or the memories she associated with it.

“Dave, meet Mickey Smith, my best friend and colleague,” Rose said. She noticed the long, hard stare Mickey gave Dave once the flicker of recognition had passed over his expression. “Mickey, this is Dave Tiler.”

“Nice to see you again,” Mickey said. “Thanks for helping Rose. I never said, but I’m really grateful for what you did for her.”

Now it was Rose’s turn to be surprised. Mickey was usually so protective of her, and he’d made it unequivocally clear that he didn’t believe her when she’d told him that her being with Dave had nothing to do with the Doctor.

“I only did what anyone would have done,” Dave said, shaking the younger man’s hand.

“In the middle of the night in an abandoned industrial area, in the rain and after an explosion? After I’d told you not to call 999?”

Dave shrugged.

“Let’s discuss the contract, shall we?” Rose said, gesturing for them to sit. “Did Mr Knowles find fault with any part of the contract I sent you?”

Dave opened his messenger bag and retrieved the folder containing the document. “Not at all. I have a question, though.”

“Yes?” Mickey leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. The receptionist chose that moment to appear with more coffee, from the shiny Torchwood Gaggia this time. Annie served the mugs and some of Bertie’s nibbles before she left as discreetly as she’d arrived.

“I was wondering if I could travel around to the more distant sites during the summer holidays so I won’t have to leave my kids with the au pair. I’d pay for their accommodation, of course, I just wanted to make sure it’s okay,” he said nervously.

Rose bit her lip. She should have thought of that. Of course he’d want to stay close to his children after what had happened. The situation only proved that she hadn’t really gotten used to the idea of him being a father yet. Maybe it was time to meet them after all. “I don’t see why that would be a problem,” Rose said, finding Mickey’s eyes.

Mickey nodded. “I can’t think of a reason why not.”

Dave’s tension lessened at their positive response. “Excellent. I had another idea last night, and I haven’t had the chance to run it past Robin... Knowles, my lawyer, yet.”

Rose perked up. “I’m listening.”

“It sounds a bit selfish, but it’s not entirely that. I was thinking of making a coffee table book about the sites of the Heritage Trust Fund.”

“I think we can cover that in a separate contract,” Mickey said. “The two wouldn’t be mutually exclusive. Actually, I quite like the idea of a decent, less touristy book about our sites.”

Rose nodded in agreement. “I like the idea.” She didn’t like the idea of not seeing Dave for an extended period of time when he was touring the country’s sights. She hadn’t seen him since Friday, and they’d only briefly talked on Monday to confirm today’s appointment. She’d missed him already, and today couldn’t come quick enough.

Mickey and Dave signed the contract, and after that they were off to Tony’s for lunch. Mickey gave Rose’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze behind Dave’s back, which made the tension melt off her. She was glad that Mickey approved of Dave; it made things so much easier. At Tony’s, they met Dominic and Jake, who she just introduced as colleagues, omitting what exactly it was they did. Dave didn’t seem too pleased at first at the crowd, but he gradually relaxed and by the time the main course was served she had the impression that he was enjoying himself and the company.

They had the whole afternoon to themselves, for as long as Dave’s schedule allowed. Rose smiled, licking her spoon. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him and to see what he had planned for them.


	22. Chapter 22

_Rose’s men_ left after coffee, and once they were gone, Dave reached across the crumb-strewn, tomato-splattered and oil-dribbled table cloth for her hand. He was pleased that Rose wanted him to meet them all so soon, and vice versa he was certain, and it had been gratifying to feel they accepted him. They were a very interesting, funny bunch of guys, completely different from any other men he’d met. There was something about Rose’s men that set them apart from everyone else. He knew that Mickey and Rose had come from another universe, so clearly that, if not their relationship and their travels with the Doctor, had forged a powerful bond between them. They had shared some short exchanges that neither he nor the other two men had been able to follow, so apparently they seemed to be trading quotes from the other universe’s pop culture. Rather than feeling excluded, Dave had paid both of them close attention. He had seen a very new side of Rose, one he wasn’t sure he’d have gotten to see if it had just been the two of them.

The chemistry between Rose and her men went further than that though. It was clear that Jake and Dominic weren’t part of her and Mickey’s exclusive partnership, but it had also been quite plain that the four of them shared a secret. Just what it was Dave wasn’t sure. It certainly wasn’t the work for the Heritage Trust Fund. It was something more exciting, something more demanding and challenging than office work. Their relationship was based on complete trust, and they’d seemed to know each other quite well. Dave knew, however, that he’d have to wait for her to tell him about her job when she was ready for it. It was part of their agreement. It had seemed so simple on Friday, but already he began to feel the ramifications of it.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, turning her hand in his to brush his knuckles with her fingertips.

“What for?”

“For talking so much shop,” she said. “I hope you didn’t feel left out.”

“I enjoyed myself, and it was interesting to see you in the company of your friends,” he said sincerely. “Besides, we have the whole afternoon to ourselves.”

“That we do,” Rose said, smiling that gorgeous smile of hers, with a hint of pink peeping from the corner of her lips. “So, what’s the plan?”

Dave grinned. She reminded him of his kids when they were excited about a surprise, down to the shine in her eyes. “I was thinking of having a peek at the photos unless, of course, you’d rather do something else.”

Rose put on a mask of concentration, and she managed to keep it in place long enough for him to start to worry if she really was pondering the suggestion as hard as she made him believe. He was about to say something when she said, grinning. “I’m dying to see the photos.”

“You, Miss Tyler, are a terrible woman,” he said, leaning forward to steal a kiss from her.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything else since you mentioned them earlier,” Rose said, dropping her voice seductively.

He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Well, in that case I suggest we go to the studio.”

Assuming that she’d be coming to the studio, he’d ridden his bike in the morning to leave room for Rose to park in the alley, because he knew she’d never find a place near the School of Art that late in the day. By the time she arrived — the bike enabled him to negotiate the Glasgow traffic more swiftly than a car — he had already spread out the preliminary prints on the kitchen table. After a quick visit to the bathroom he drew his fingers through his helmet hair and brushed his teeth.

“Hi,” Rose said, her smile radiant as he opened the door for her.

He only managed a pathetic little squeak. He had been so nervous earlier that he hadn’t realised how stunning Rose looked. She was wearing a narrow black skirt that came down to her knees, and a purple shirt. He was about to apologise for the dirt in the alleyway when he noticed she had changed into a pair of ballerina shoes. Taking her hand, he pulled her inside and into his arms, and pushing the door shut. Hopefully, doing that, pulling her towards him for a kiss, would never cease to amaze him. She tasted of coffee and strawberries.

After a lingering kiss, Rose tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, where she fitted perfectly thanks to her flat shoes. She held on to him firmly and he basked in her warmth and the beating of her heart for a while. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so at peace.

“Hello,” he said at last, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“I missed you,” Rose said, pulling back a little so she could look at him.

“So did I,” he said, smiling. “But it’s great to know that we get to see each other on Wednesdays.”

“Which doesn’t mean we can’t meet any other day of the week,” Rose said. “Although I was quite busy, which helped. A little.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but you do look a little tired.” He bit his lip. Where had that come from? _This, David Michael Tiler, is certainly not the way to charm the knickers off the lady._

Rose ducked her head. “I’m sorry. Something came up on Monday, just after I called you. It was an emergency.”

 _With the Heritage Trust Fund?_ he was about to ask when he remembered that Rose hadn’t told him what else it was she was doing. He had the sneaking suspicion that the Heritage Trust Fund and her involvement with Vitex were just a story to keep the media satisfied. She’d talked of working cases before, but she’d also said she wasn’t with the police. What _was_ it she was doing? And why couldn’t she tell him? “Were you able to sort it out?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Yeah, we were. It was great, but exhausting.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Rose replied. “Please?”

He broke away from her and, with his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the kitchen table. He had printed the first version of some of the photos. As usual, he had wanted them to be perfect, even more so because it was his personal project — and because Rose was part of it.

He had spent most of his time getting the mirror shots right. He had worked on their reflections first, working them into the mottled glass in their dressed state. They were touching the surface of the mirror, reaching out to touch the fingers of their naked selves standing in front of the mirror. In one version, Rose was reaching out for herself and he was reaching out for himself, and in another one Rose was reaching out for him and vice versa. He was very proud of these pictures because it had taken him a long time to get them right.

“These are... gorgeous,” Rose said. “I had no idea... This is just great. I love how we reach out for ourselves and for one another. I... I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was an odd mixture of reverence and excitement. When she looked at him the amazement and vulnerability in her eyes deeply touched him. It was as if she was telling him about her past all over again.

“It was an idea I had while we were there. I wasn’t sure it’d work,” he said. “I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them. The idea of getting in touch with oneself is great, but I also like the ones in which I reach out for you. They mean so much to me on different levels,” Rose said softly, but she stopped herself.

“Would you tell me?”

Rose sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. But I think it might help.”

Rose hesitated for a few moments, collecting her words and finding a starting point. “When the wall first closed on me I touched it, imagining I could reach out for the Doctor behind it and that he was doing the same. It’s silly, I know. It’s why I’ve only just painted the walls in my bedroom; after it was clear that I can’t go back. That white wall reminded me of him, of the need to get back to him after a particularly bad day,” Rose explained. “But it also feels like the Mirror of Erised in a way.”

“Like what?” Dave asked, puzzled.

“The mirror from the Harry Potter books that shows people their heart’s desire. ‘s why it’s called Erised, it’s just desire backwards,” Rose said.

“Oh. Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I felt more like seeing an important part of ourselves in that mirror. I hadn’t thought of the books. It’s been a while since I read them.”

“I like that too,” Rose said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So I am an important part of you?”

“That’s how you feel to me,” he said carefully, hoping it wasn’t too much too soon. He so wanted to tell her he loved her, but something still held him back. “I like your explanation as well.” He bit his lip.

“You haven’t removed the scars,” Rose pointed out, picking up one of the photos.

Panic pooled in the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t have time for that.”

“Oh, no, it’s all right!” Rose hastened to reassure him. “I think they ought to be there. The photos wouldn’t be the same without them. I wouldn’t be the same without them.”

“Are you sure? It’s easily done.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Unless... They’re your pictures.”

Dave could feel his face fall. “I’d thought they were ours.” He pulled out two of the pictures she had taken. They had turned out surprisingly well. Either Rose had been lucky, or she was a far better photographer than she’d let on. He suspected it was the latter.

Rose took the prints and studied them. The first one was a portrait of him with the mask on and the black eye make-up bleeding into his white skin from beneath it. The combination of the compact and the lighting — a tad too bright — had a chilling, ghostly effect. He hadn’t recognised himself, but he had felt deeply moved by the anguish in his mask of grief. He’d never thought that it was possible to capture such strong emotions without being able to see their eyes, but this had worked beautifully.

Rose looked at that photo for a very long time, and when she remained silent he went to his desk to get the print with her mirroring the portrait. He hadn’t wanted to show it to her yet because he was afraid of upsetting her. But when he held her portrait next to his he noticed that this was the reason for her silence. This was a pair of photos — they were expressive on their own, but they only really worked when seen together. Rose inhaled sharply.

She had turned her face slightly so the light from the window made the contrast of the black ink on the pale apple of her cheek even starker. Her lips were slightly parted, and if held up next to his it seemed as if she were whispering to him.

“They aren’t perfect.”

“But they are,” she said eventually, looking up. “They’re us.” She looked down at the two photos and back at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he lied, unsure of whether she liked them. He wanted her to tell him how she felt about the photos, but he couldn’t bring himself to press her.

“They’re stunning,” she said.

His stared at her. _Had she...?_

“Dave, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Rose, I...”

She reached for his cheek, but he caught her hand in mid-air and pulled it, wrapped in his fingers, against his chest. “Please don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Sometimes I’m just not sure if you’re reading my mind. Just before you said that they’re stunning, I wanted you to tell me because I wasn’t sure.”

“And you think I went inside your mind,” Rose concluded.

His cheeks tickled as embarrassment rushed into them.

“I’d never slip inside your thoughts unbidden,” Rose said sincerely. “Besides, you’d know it.”

He nodded, feeling silly. Her explanation made sense. “Am I that easy to read? My expressions, I mean?”

Rose nodded, placing her other hand on his chest as well. “Am I right to assume that you’ve been manipulated because of it?”

The tickling sensation returned to his cheeks; he felt like a little boy at that moment. “I’m a big old softie.”

“And that is exactly what I love about you,” Rose said, smiling. She rose on her toes, bracing herself on him so she could reach his lips to kiss him. “I’m not like that. Manipulative, I mean.”

“I know,” he squeaked, holding on to her waist as she rocked back onto her heels.

“You said something about hot photos?” she asked, her tone suddenly playful. He was glad for her mercurial shift of mood; it certainly helped to pull him away from the dark path his thoughts had started to take.

He pulled the photo of him with the wet sheet from the folder. It was like a wet t-shirt contest for blokes, and he closed his eyes as he passed it to Rose. He couldn’t have felt more naked standing in front of her without his clothes. The wet cotton clung to him like a second skin, leaving enough to the imagination to make this one of the hottest photos he’d ever seen. His face was in the shadows, hair flopping over the edge of the mask that was just visible. His nipples had pebbled against the cold and the ridge of his cock was distinguishable from the folds of the wet material.

“Oh my,” Rose whispered softly. “I did that?”

Was she talking about the erection or the photo? He chewed the inside of his cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” Rose said.

If he’d been embarrassed before, he was mortified now. He was no such thing.

“It’s true,” Rose insisted. “And you’re right.”

“About what?”

“The hotness.”

“Rose.”

Rose put the photo down, turning it upside down as she did so. “I suppose it’s only fair to look at one of mine now, don’t you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, echoing her earlier words as he gave her his favourite shot of her. No matter how well he’d managed not to think of the real Rose as he’d worked on the photo, he failed miserably at being professional now. He could feel pleasure pool low in his stomach, and was ashamed for it. This hadn’t been a good idea, but they’d gone too far now to stop now.

He had taken the photo as Rose had shifted on the floor, her hair fanned out on the rough floorboards, one arm thrown above her head so his eye had followed the long line of her body from her wrist, along the pale inside of her arm, over the swell of her breast and down to her waist. She’d drawn up her leg so her pubis was hidden, but he’d wanted to reach out and cup her hipbone and trail his fingers along the length of her leg, right down to her ankle. Moles stood out darkly along that line and he’d imagined kissing every single one of them. Half of her body was concealed in the shadows, and the map of her scars stood out clearly. What he loved best about the shot was that, despite the mask, she looked dreamy and at peace with the world. There were no traces of her tears any more.

“You can count my ribs,” Rose said. “And look at that hipbone.”

 _I’d love to kiss it_ , Dave thought.

“It’s my favourite,” he said instead. “You are beautiful.”

Rose looked at him for a few beats, her eyes searching his. “That’s how we see each other. It isn’t for the other to decide if we’re right or wrong.”

“We just have to trust each other,” Dave added.

Rose nodded. They looked at each other but then the moment was gone. “Are there any other photos?”

“Yes, but I haven’t worked on them yet, and I’d rather not show them to you yet. If that’s okay.”

“As I said, they’re yours.”

“No, Rose,” he said. “They’re ours. You took some of them.” He gestured at the portrait shots.

“But they aren’t really part of the _Emptiness Folder_ , are they? I bet I made a ton of mistakes.”

“You did, but you’re not a photographer, eh? Besides, your photos are very good,” he said. When she saw she was about to protest he covered her mouth with his hand. “Hush now, Rose.”

He could hear her muffled protest.

“Hush!” he said, laughing.

When she protested again, tickling his palm with her lips and breath, he let go of her only to draw her towards him for a deep kiss. The taste of strawberries and coffee was almost gone and he delighted in tasting her. She pressed against him as if she wanted to crawl inside him, and the feel and taste and shape of her — and the sounds she made — rekindled the pleasure that had warmed his abdomen earlier and he grew hard against her. He held her very close, resisting the urge to snake his hands to her bum and pull her closer. While he knew he was ready to take this further he didn’t want to rush her. She had seemed so vulnerable as she’d told him about the wall and the mirror and he didn’t want to take advantage of her.

Eventually, he let go of her to cup her face with his hands. They couldn’t let go of each other at once, sharing several short kisses before they were ready to stop. Her lips were red and swollen and it was almost impossible to resist her. So he just brushed his right thumb over them.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Dave, I’m... I don’t think the studio is the right place,” she said.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, caressing her face.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For...” Her eyes darted down between them and she moved slightly away from him.

“I’ll survive,” he said.

“No, I really am. But I... I can’t. Not today.”

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting her head up gently. “It’s okay. Aye? It really is.” He tried to put as much sincerity into his eyes as possible, willing her to read him. She looked at him for a while, her eyes searching and, when she’d found what she was looking for, she nodded.

“What about a drink?”

They curled up on the red sofa, nursing their cups of tea. Rose had snuggled up to him as soon as he sat down, drawing her legs up with a sigh.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am now. I’ve had cramps all morning, and curling up really helps.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say? I’ve got some painkillers. Somewhere. If you want them.”

“I’m fine now. Just hold me, yeah?”

He pulled her a bit closer to him and dropped a kiss on top of her head. They sat in silence for a while and when he noticed that Rose hadn’t touched her tea he realised that she had nodded off. “’s all right, love,” he whispered. He leaned his cheek against her head and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her body against his, her arm slung around his stomach, the other resting along his thigh. He hadn’t felt so much at peace with himself in a long time, not even before what happened. For a moment he thought he ought to feel guilty for that thought, but he also knew that Rose and Rita were entirely different women. And he loved them both.


	23. Chapter 23

When one of Dave’s kids came down with chicken pox at the end of the week Rose asked Dominic for the ointment that had helped ease the itch when Tony and she had suffered from it a couple of years earlier. The ointment was very good but only available through Torchwood. Rose sent the unmarked jar in which Dominic had poured the clear substance to Dave at the studio with a note to ring her when he got it.

“You got chicken pox as an adult?” Dave asked, not a little amused.

“I had it as a child, but it seems that the version in this world is different. So yeah, I got it too, “ Rose explained, leaning back in her office chair.

“So what’s this you sent me?”

“It’s the ointment Mum used to ease the itch. It really helped. It’s a special concoction of our GP’s. Put it on thinly and your wee one will feel a lot better.”

He was silent for a bit. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but Rita was very... particular about medicine.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Rose reassured him. “Mum wouldn’t have let it near Tony if it weren’t.”

“Thank you.” He sounded relieved.

“I miss you,” Rose said after a short pause.

“And I you,” he said, sighing. “We could meet for a quick drink after footie practice on Sunday. I’ll tell the guys it’s Lottie’s night off.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from them,” Rose said.

“I want to see you, Rose. I’d skip it altogether.”

Rose sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. As much as she missed Dave, she didn’t want to keep him from his life just as she didn’t want to stay away from her new dancing class. Dominic had given her a clean bill of health — officially speaking — and she’d decided to take up dancing again. It helped her to focus on herself and take her mind off things as well as offering a kind of workout that she enjoyed. She hated going to the gym, and she just didn’t make it to the pool as often as she wanted because she didn’t really know anyone there to look forward to meeting up with that would help her stick to her plan.

“I don’t want that. Do you eat before or after practice?” she asked. “I’d love to prepare a little something for you to eat.”

“Only if you join me.”

“To make sure I’m eating properly?” she teased, but deep down she felt touched.

“Aye.”

“It’s a date then.”

He squeaked adorably when he agreed to the plan.

“Now go home and pamper your wee one,” she instructed.

When he came to her house on Sunday he devoured the pasta salad she’d made but he was too sore to snuggle on the sofa with her afterwards. He had crashed into the goal post, and when she made him pull up his shirt an angry, elongated bruise had appeared on his left side just below his shoulder.

“You don’t have an ointment for that, do you?” he asked, wincing as he assessed the damage with his fingertips.

“I’m afraid not,” Rose said, concentrating on sounding sympathetic. “But I could kiss it better.” His eyes went wide at her suggestion, and she covered the awkward moment with a new question. “How’s your wee one?”

“Much better, thank you,” Dave said, pulling down his shirt. “The ointment works wonders. But I’m glad the others have already had chicken pox so we won’t need it any more.”

“They are pretty bad in this universe," Rose said, shuddering in horror at the memory.

“Would you tell me about life... over there?” he asked. He was about to lean back gingerly when Rose gestured for him to lie down with his head on her lap.

“What would you like to hear?” she asked, dropping one hand into his hair and the other onto his chest where Dave held it in place with his.

“What was growing up with only your mother like?” He looked at her, surprised at his own boldness.

“I was a baby when Dad died so I didn’t know the difference until I met him again... over here,” she began. “The main thing is that when you fight you’re on your own, there’s no one to referee.”

He smiled briefly at her metaphor and picked up her hand to plant a kiss in her palm.

“Other than that, our relationship was very close. We still are. Life at the estate wasn’t easy, but we made the best of it. There were quite a few kids with single parents so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.”

“Ah.”

“It must be so much more difficult for you and the children,” she mused, drawing her fingers through his freshly washed hair.

“Sometimes I don’t think I’ll pull through,” Dave admitted eventually. “You know what the worst thing is? Rita loved them. Dearly. But she’s never been much of a cuddler. She was affectionate in her own way but she never gave us a hug just because... she felt like it. So I held back because... because I didn’t want to hurt her. But the children need physical closeness so much and they’ve never asked for it and it’s so hard... We’re learning, though. We’re getting better at it.”

“That’s funny.”

“Why?”

“You’re such a cuddler yourself, I find it hard to believe. But I see where you’re coming from,” she explained.

“Big ol’ softie, me,” he grinned.

Rose felt a jolt go through her at the familiar turn of phrase. She hadn’t heard it in a long time; her second Doctor hadn’t used it, but it was one of the things about him she’d fallen in love with when she first met him.

“Rose?”

She pushed the thought aside and smiled. “I was just thinking how nice this is.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a wreck tonight,” he said. “I guess I’m getting old.”

“Nonsense.” She said, stroking his pecs through his shirt. “You’ve bruised your ribs; anyone would feel sore. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Aye,” he said, yawning. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I suppose I’d better go home now.”

“I wish —” Rose began but bit her lip. _I wish you could stay the night_ , she finished in her thoughts.

Dave pushed himself into a sitting position and kissed her. “I know.”

-:-

“That’s a very sad picture,” Paul said, gesturing at Dave’s laptop. Dave had been so absorbed putting putting Ewan and Evie's Viking masterpiece up on the wall, that he hadn’t heard his son enter the dining room. They had drawn the poster to cover up the ugly patches of peeling paint in the kitchen itself. “To make it pretty again until we find a nice colour for the wall,” Evie had explained.

Dave joined Paul to look at the photo in question. It was the shot of the toy car and the teddy bear in the abandoned room. The picture hadn’t lost any of its power over him, and it had taken him several attempt to be able to look at it without his chest becoming tight. It was, however, a very good photo that needed just a little bit of touching up, and he didn’t want to keep it from Rose. It was such an important picture among the many they had taken.

He closed the image viewer. “Aye.”

“Dad?”

“Aye?” Dave looked at Paul.

“This was in the post today,” Paul said, holding out a torn envelope for him.

“What is it?” Dave asked, taking it from him.

“It’s a letter from Lucy.”

Dave froze, staring at his daughter’s handwriting. She had addressed the letter to everyone in the house, which was why Paul had opened it in the first place. He must have found it in the letter basket when he’d gotten home early from school. Dave stared at the letter, unsure if he wanted to know what Lucy had to tell them. He was afraid she’d chosen to stay in Edinburgh, and if Paul’s sorrowful expression was anything to go by, he was probably right.

“What,” he began, clearing his throat. “What does she say?”

“Read it,” Paul said, slipping onto the bench. Paul was right. If it was bad news he had no right to ask his son to break it to him.

“Right.” Dave sat in his chair and, with unsteady fingers, pulled the folded sheet out of the envelope. The letter was short, and apart from apologising for her behaviour did contain nothing to alleviate his fears. What she had to say, however, was heartfelt, and he smiled, trying to hold back his tears.

“I’m beginning to forget what Mum’s voice sounded like,” Paul said after a while.

Dave stared at his son.

“When I read, I can hear Mum’s voice in my head,” Paul began to explain. He lowered his gaze to his hands where he had fanned them out on the scrubbed table. “It’s getting more and more difficult.”

“Paul,” he began, but when he couldn’t find the right words he shifted to sit next to Paul and drew him into his arms. What could he say to comfort Paul when hearing his mother’s voice was so important to him? He wanted to tell him that he, too, was beginning to forget little things about Rita. He’d go to her wardrobe and bury his face in her red dress to remember her scent. But he, at least, had something to hold on to, at least for as long as the material carried her perfume. “When your Gran died the first thing I forgot was her voice. But you know what’s important?”

Paul shook his head.

“It’s okay too, because she’ll always be in your heart, with or without her voice,” Dave said. “I’m starting to forget small things about her as well.” It was true, and admitting that was painful, but he’d do anything for his bairns.

Paul tightened his hold around him and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Dave dropped a kiss on top of his head. Paul had been incredibly strong so far, much stronger than a boy his age should be after losing his mother. Dave held him as he cried.

-:-

On Wednesday morning Dave woke with his heart pounding. It was Rose day, and he couldn’t wait to see her again, particularly after he’d almost fallen asleep on her on Sunday. He’d meet her at Tony’s for lunch after the wedding he’d booked in for the morning. He forwent breakfast, just picking up the thermos mug of coffee Lottie had prepared for him; he had to leave early to pick up his things at the studio before driving out to the country hotel where the happy couple wanted their pictures taken.

It was a gorgeous day and it was a pleasure to work with the couple. The bride was stunningly beautiful and the groom endearingly nervous. Dave wondered if he’d been like that on his wedding day. Time flew by, and since he was so focused on his work, he didn’t think of Rose until his phone chirped in the pocket of his jeans as he packed his equipment away.

“Rose?”

“Actually, it’s Mickey.”

Dave frowned. Then his stomach sank. “Has something happened?”

“No. Yes. In a way. Rose is fine, though. Don’t worry. She’s asked me to call you to come pick her up at the Priory. If that’s okay. It is Wednesday, right?” Mickey said, sounding more than a little uncomfortable.

If anything, Mickey’s question set him even more on edge. “You know about it?”

“She’s my best friend, mate.”

“I’ll be there in a while. Are you travelling?” Dave asked when he recognised the background noise.

“Yeah, we’ll be there in about forty minutes.”

“I’ll see you then.”

It took Dave a lot of effort to concentrate on the traffic, and it was with a sigh of relief that he pulled the key out of the ignition after he’d parked outside the Priory. His heart was hammering and he rushed to the entrance, where Annie, the receptionist, made him sit down on one of the sofas. “Miss Tyler will be upstairs in a couple of minutes, sir,” she said, offering him a drink, which he declined.

“Is she all right?” he asked, but didn’t get an answer because the phone rang behind the desk. He groaned in frustration, his worry taking on epic proportions, sending his imagination into overdrive. He went cold as horrible image after horrible image popped up inside his head.

He hadn’t noticed there was a lift until it dinged and the doors slid open to reveal Rose. He jumped up and hurried towards her, wincing as the sudden movement strained his bruised ribs.

Rose looked a fright. Her clothes were caked in mud, and her hair was dishevelled and matted. She walked with a slight limp, and sported a bandage around her left wrist. Only her face was scrubbed clean as the cuts had needed tending to. When she stepped towards him he saw how exhausted she was.

“Rose! What’s happened? Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out for her in support.

“It’s nothing, I’m okay. Can you give me a lift home?” she asked, smiling weakly.

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for. Mickey called me.”

“Ah.”

“Have you got everything you need?”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Rose dozed in the car, and for once Dave was glad that the Glasgow traffic was bad. As much as he wanted to know what had happened he reined in his curiosity until they had reached her house. He took her upstairs and to the bathroom so she could take a shower while he made some sandwiches and tea. When he’d touched Rose she had been cold, despite the warm day, and he thought it best to tuck her up in bed with a hot drink and let her sleep off her exhaustion. Explanations could wait until later.

Rose called out his name after he had put the tray down on the window seat in the bedroom and got distracted by their handprints on the wall. He couldn’t believe she had not painted them over. “Dave!?”

He hurried to the door of her en-suite. “I’m here.”

“Can you help me with my hair, please? The tangles won’t come out,” she said, sounding a bit better but her words were still slightly slurred by her exhaustion.

“Sure,” he said, pushing the door open. Rose had braced herself on the edge of the washbasin, a wooden comb in her right hand, and a towel slung around her body. Dave took the comb from her and guided her to sit on the stool she kept in the bathroom. The comb was wide-toothed and unlike any he had seen Rita or the girls use.

“Be gentle, though,” Rose said, looking up at him. He bent to kiss her tenderly.

“We’ve just had... well, let’s say I’ve done this before,” he said, unwilling to mention the rather gross nit incident.

“Nits?” Rose laughed softly. “Tony has them all the time. Or at least it seems that way.”

Dave started to work the comb carefully through her tangled hair. She had gotten out most of the mud and whatever else it had been, but the knots her vigorous scrubbing had created were just as bad. However hard he tried, he couldn’t avoid tugging a bit too hard on her hair every once in a while, earning him a sharp hiss. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m glad for your help. You’re doing great.”

They stopped talking for the rest of the exercise, and by the time he was done, Rose was half asleep. He led her to her bed and tucked her in. The tea was stone cold.

“Dave?” Rose said, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength.

“Aye?”

“Don’t go, yeah? You can stay, right?”

“It’s Wednesday, Rose. Of course I’ll stay.” He wriggled his hand free to caress her and took the towel from her. When he returned to the bedroom, she had fallen asleep. He sat down in the window seat and ate two of the sandwiches. He hadn’t noticed how famished he was. Then he made himself a fresh cup of tea and brought his laptop to her bedroom to work on the _Emptiness Folder_. He hadn’t touched the toy car and teddy bear shot since Paul had seen it, and after a couple of minutes he decided not to change anything about it. It wasn’t really necessary, and it was Rose’s shot. He wondered briefly if she’d enjoy some lessons in photography. She certainly did have a good eye.

Dave looked at her where she lay snuggled up beneath her silvery green duvet. Her damp hair was drying, fanned out as it was on the pillow behind her. She had the most beautiful hair, he thought, and seeing it against the soft material of her linen and the pillow made it look entirely different from the way it looked draped over the rough floorboards. Her lips were slightly parted and she looked completely unguarded in her sleep.

He had seen many sides of his mysterious Rose, but this one was new. She was the society girl, the thoughtful young woman, the relaxed and happy cook, the naked model, the creature from the swamp, the businesswoman. But she was always Rose, strong but vulnerable, warm and caring but determined.

He couldn’t help wondering what it was she really did. The Heritage Trust Fund was just the uppermost bit of the ruin buried beneath the soil. She had travelled through time and space. There was no way a woman like Rose would be content with office work. The explosion of the night he had found her and her appearance today spoke volumes. She’d told him she wasn’t with the police, and he believed her. But there was something else, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

The cuts on her face had darkened, and when she’d slipped into bed, she’d not only sported a bandaged wrist but he could also see that her knee had turned black and blue. She must have taken quite a fall.

“Who are you, Rose Tyler?” he whispered softly.

Eventually he managed to return to his work, and when he reviewed the mirror shots he made a mental note to reread the first of the Potter books. Just like she’d asked, he didn’t remove the scars but experimented with making them stand out a bit more instead.

He was so lost in his work that he lifted up his empty mug several times to drink from it, only to put it down with the intention of nipping downstairs for a fresh one, but of course he forgot until he wanted to take the next sip. In the end it was Rose’s voice that roused him.

“Hey.”

“Hey you,” he said, smiling, saving his work and sliding off the window seat. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” she said, returning his smile. She reached out for him and pulled him towards her when he took her hand. “Thank you.”

“Are you hungry? I’ve got a sandwich here,” he said, gesturing at the plate on the tray.

“I’d like to make up for sleeping away the afternoon. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s just gone four,” he said, glancing at her alarm clock. “What did you have in mind?”

He sat down on the edge of her bed, unsure of what he was to do with his hands now that Rose had let go of them.

“Well, I am in bed, naked,” she said, tucking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth.

Dave felt warmth rise in his cheeks, but the idea also sent warm shivers down his spine. He was no saint, but following through with the desire he felt seemed like taking advantage of her weakened state and just didn't feel right. “Rose, I’m not sure this is the right time.”

Her wonderful grin disappeared and he realised that he must have sounded more like a father than a lover — and he certainly wanted to make love to her. “You’re hurt, and so am I. It’s obvious you’ve just had a horrible day.”

Rose closed her eyes and cupped her forehead with her hand. “Yeah, you’re right. But can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“If I put on my pyjamas and you made us a cuppa, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Dave smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“It’s from a song.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, but it never came out here.”

Dave slumped slightly. “There are quite a few things that are different, aren’t there?”

“Not as many as you’d think, but it can be a little overwhelming at times. Now, tea!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before Dave slipped into bed with her a few minutes later he took off his jeans — “I worked outdoors this morning, you don’t want them in your bed” — and gave her a cup of tea. “What happened this morning?” he asked, sipping his tea. Rose had insisted he slip under the duvet to keep warm, and it was surprising how warm her body was next to his. True to her word, she had used the time he was in the kitchen to put on her pyjamas.

“We did some field work and I slipped down a slope,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

Dave trailed his fingers lightly over her sore wrist. “Did you see a doctor?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m just... I’m worried, is all. What were you doing, out and about? You must have been out for ages? You slept for three hours.”

Rose put her mug aside and turned to lie facing him. “I slipped in the darkness. The battery of my torch died, and that’s when it happened.”

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for more, but she didn’t oblige him. “I can’t tell you anything else, I’m sorry. I would if I could, I really would.” She reached out to cup his cheek with her bandaged hand, and he turned his head to plant a kiss in its palm.

“Okay,” he said, seeing that he had to accept that explanation for the moment, although he couldn’t help feeling a little angry at being called on to help her but not getting any answers in return.

“I’ll tell you when I can, and I’ll answer all your questions. I promise,” Rose said. “Now, tell me. What have you been working on?”


	24. Chapter 24

Early Sunday evening saw the end of a very hot weekend. Dark clouds had started to build up above the sea, and by late afternoon a stiff breeze brought a bit of relief. Rose had opened all her windows to air out the house properly. Dominic had restricted her to office duty after her encounter with the Uggsomegaut on Wednesday morning. Rose had been furious at first, but if she was honest, she was glad for some rest. The past weeks had been wonderful but stressful, and she had to admit that she probably hadn’t taken as much time as she should have to recuperate from her injuries after the accident with the Dimension Cannon. On Friday she had driven her minuscule Italian car to a DIY shop to buy some supplies to revamp her patio. She wanted to make the most of the sunshine, and her garden was pathetic.

The work on the patio hadn’t been so good for her sprained wrist and her twisted knee, but when she was done some time Saturday morning, the patio was clean and shielded from the garden by an array of potted plants. She had bought some furniture as well, and she didn’t leave her new love seat unless absolutely necessary.

The chirping of her phone roused her from a nap. Rose sat up and reached for her mobile, catching the book as it began to slide from her chest. It was Dave’s ring tone, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

“Hey,” she said.

“We’ve cancelled footie practice. Can I come over early?” Dave asked without preamble.

“Why? I mean, why has it been cancelled?”

“Have you looked at the sky recently?”

“Nope. I’ve been reading and napping,” Rose said.

She could hear his smile over the phone. “Looks like a major thunderstorm is moving in from the sea. So, may I pop round now?”

“Of course you may.”

“Just wanted to make sure you’ve thrown out the other guy by the time I arrive.”

“Oh. _Him_. Yeah. No prob,” Rose retorted.

Dave was silent for a beat. “Aye. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When she looked at the sky she saw that Dave had been right, and for a moment she contemplated evacuating the patio, but she wanted him to see what she’d done. Rose used the time to fix them a drink based on a recipe she’d charmed off Bertie’s bartender.

Dave arrived with a bottle of sparkling wine, dressed in a white oxford, his leather jacket and what must be his rattiest pair of jeans. Rose stood in the doorway, gaping at him for a while.

“May I come in?” Dave asked, taking off his sunglasses and shrugging out of the heavy jacket.

“Sure,” she said, stepping aside. Dave stole a kiss from her as he passed her. The bottle was slick with condensation and chilly against her arm when he touched her with it. Rose yelped.

“How are you?” he asked, trailing his fingers down her left arm until he reached her sprained left wrist. She had taken off the bandage.

“I’m great.” She pushed the door shut, then stepped into his arms after she’d taken the bottle from him and put it on the small hall table. They kissed, losing themselves in each other’s arms for a while.

“I’d better put this in the fridge. And I want to show you something,” Rose said eventually. After a short detour to the kitchen, where she put the bubbly in the fridge and picked up their drinks, she led him to the patio.

“This is beautiful!” Dave said as he sat down in the love seat, picking up the book she’d been reading. “Don’t tell me you’ve done this.”

Rose shrugged sheepishly. “The garden still needs some work, but I couldn’t resist the sunshine.” She passed him his drink and sat down beside him.

“Rose,” he said. He must have seen her colourful knee as the skirt of her sundress had ridden up her thighs.

“I know. I swear I haven’t left this seat unless I needed to since I finished,” she said, sipping her drink. The alcohol took almost immediate effect, reminding her of the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“You seem a little tense,” Dave said, putting down his glass on the low table. “Here, let me help you.” He took her by the waist and moved her to sit between his legs so he could give her a back rub. Luckily, the seat was deep enough to allow both of them sitting comfortably on the small sofa. Rose felt herself relax almost immediately as Dave touched her and began to run his hands over her back and shoulders.

“You’re very good at this,” she sighed, dropping her chin to her chest.

“Rita was often tense,” he said, pausing briefly in his ministrations as it registered with both of them what he had just said.

Rose reached across her shoulder to cover his left hand. “You don’t have to do this if it brings up painful memories.”

“It brings up beautiful memories, in fact,” Dave said. “Please don’t wrap me in cotton wool because of her.”

She felt chastened and dropped her hand into her lap. Dave was right. Not all memories were painful; most memories of the Doctor made her smile and helped her when she felt sad. To assume it would be any different for Dave was just wrong. “I’m sorry.”

Dave took a deep breath and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, just next to the strap of her dress. “Don’t be sorry. Mourning is a solitary business.”

Rose turned in his embrace and draped her legs over his thigh, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Sometimes I lose myself so much in it that I forget that Mum and Mickey miss him too.”

“Aye,” he murmured, kissing her gently. “Paul told me the other day he’s starting to forget the sound of Rita’s voice.”

“It’s strange how that’s the first thing we forget about people, isn’t it? It’s such a dreadful realisation when we start to forget. Did you manage to comfort him?”

Dave rested his forehead against hers. “I hope so. Sometimes it feels like I’m the worst father in the world.”

“Now, that’s not true, and you know it,” Rose said, cupping his cheek. Pete had confided in her after he’d had a whisky too many that he didn’t feel as though he was a good enough Dad to Tony and her. She drew Dave towards her for a lingering kiss.

“I failed Lucy.”

“No, you did not. Now stop your self-flagellation,” Rose said, touching his lips with her fingers. Dave smiled and pressed a kiss against them. “Would you rub my shoulders a bit more, please?”

He obliged her and they sat enjoying their caresses — punctuated by the occasional kiss to her shoulders and neck — in silence. When Rose had had enough, she leaned back against him, and Dave slid his hands around her stomach. The breeze had picked up a little, but it was still too warm to make her shiver.

They were sipping their drinks when the first fat raindrops started to burst on Rose’s bare skin. Although she jumped at first, startled, she giggled, raising her face to the sky. The cold raindrops felt great on her overheated skin. Dave, however, startled her most when he touched her chin and made her turn her face towards him so he could kiss her. He tasted slightly salty at first, and of sunshine, and of Dave. She gave herself over to his kiss with a contented sigh and opened up beneath him. The kiss became very passionate and she felt her womb tighten.

When they came up for breath they held each other’s gaze for a long while, and Rose had never been so close to telling that she loved him. He was about to say something but she wanted them to be silent, to enjoy the magic of the moment, so she touched his lips with her fingers again. It was amazing how receptive he was to that silent plea.

“We should go inside,” he said after a while, nuzzling her fingers. The rain had become stronger; she could feel the drops running down her bare legs. It felt good and strangely invigorating. The Doctor would have thrown back his head and laughed along with her, she thought. Dave was too much of a father to be carefree about things like this.

“Yes, let’s,” she said. They grabbed the cushions, book and glasses and headed inside. After spending the better part of the weekend outside it felt strange to be in the confined space of her dining room and kitchen again. Rose turned around to close the patio door against the rain and the wind. Dave wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her against his body. His warmth was even more electrifying now that it mingled with the scent of the rain hitting warm stone and hot skin.

“When did it get so dark?” Dave asked. The bad weather had indeed moved in faster than they’d thought, and the patio was bathed in the twilight gloom of a summer thunderstorm.

“The breeze is delightful, still I’d better close the windows,” Rose said.

“I’ll help you,” Dave offered, nuzzling the mole behind her ear, making no move to let go of her. Rose let him kiss her for a little while until she started to squirm a little.

“Please, Dave, we really need to…”

“Yes, I know. I just love standing her with you, like this.”

“I’ll be back in a tick. You can start cleaning the strawberries if you want. They’re in the fridge, and you’ll find a bowl and knife over there,” she said, pointing at the kitchen cabinet and drawer in question. To her surprise, Dave let go of her, and she moved away quickly.

In her bedroom she closed the window only as far as absolutely necessary. The air in the spacious room smelled of summer rain. Following an instinct, Rose moved to light the various candles she had placed around the room. Soon, it was bathed in the flickering light of the candles; along with the patter of raindrops against the window, she thought that it was the perfect setting for finally seducing Dave.

In the kitchen Dave was cleaning the strawberries at the sink. The light at the window was just bright enough for him to see properly. Rose padded to the fridge to get out the bubbly he had brought, and the bowl of mascarpone creme. He jumped slightly when she opened the fridge and gave her a quick smile before returning to his task. Rose enjoyed the soft tinkle of the glasses when she got them out of the cabinet.

“Done,” Dave said after he had washed the strawberries and placed them in the glass bowl. He turned around, wiping his hands on a tea towel. He stepped towards her and took the bottle from her. “Here, let me.” He liberated the cork from the neck of the bottle with a satisfying plop.

“I love you,” Rose said as he placed the bottle in the champagne bucket.

Dave’s head snapped up, his expression full of wonder and surprise at her words. “Ye do?”

“Yes. I love you,” she said. “Let’s take this upstairs.” She took the glasses and the champagne bucket, nodding for him to pick up the strawberries and the creme. She heard him follow her upstairs, and when she entered her bedroom she put the bubbly down on a small table she kept beside her chaise longue. Dave joined her, placing the two bowls carefully next to the cooler.

“One might think you’ve been planning to seduce me,” he said.

“What if I have been?” Rose asked.

“I’d be most willing,” he replied. “Because I love you, Rose.” He smiled after the words had left his mouth.

Rose closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck; his hands, in turn, went to her waist to pull her close. They kissed to reassure each other of the truth of the three words with which they had just entrusted each other.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” Rose said.

“Aye, it’s been long enough.”

Apart from the patter of raindrops and the wind the room was quiet for a while. Dave eventually started to unbutton his oxford until Rose batted his hands away and started to slip the buttons free of the holes herself. Dave dropped his hands by his sides and watched her as she worked. When she brushed the sides of his shirt away he helped her by shrugging out of it. Rose ran her hands up his stomach and caressed his pecs, brushing her thumbs over his nipples and through the smattering of hair on his chest. She heard him hold his breath.

“It’s funny,” Rose said, placing a kiss on either side of his chest.

“What is?” He ran his palms lightly up and down her arms.

“We’ve seen each other naked,” she said, “still, this is like discovering each other.”

“We _are_ discovering each other, Rose.”

“Yeah. I’ve dreamt of it.”

“Ye have?”

“You haven’t?” she shot back.

“I have.”

She grinned, tucking the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. Then she raised her arms above her head to invite him to take off her sundress. Dave lifted the hem of her dress and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in her powder-blue knickers and bra. She saw his eyes go wide and she smiled gently, colouring a little as she realised the effect the ensemble had on him. She had chosen it on a whim earlier that afternoon; it was new and she wanted to feel good about herself even if no one saw her in it. She couldn’t have chosen a better outfit if she’d actually planned on seducing him. It was just perfect.

“I haven’t dreamt of this, though,” he said, dropping her dress beside him.

“Good,” Rose said. “I’d be scared I couldn’t live up to it.”

Dave started to feather his fingers over the lace and satin, running them along the edge of the cups, barely touching the soft skin of her breasts. Rose held still, letting him explore. Eventually, his hands drifted up the straps and when he lowered his hands he took the straps with them, pulling them down to kiss her shoulders. Reaching behind her, he deftly undid the hooks and brushed the bra off her arms and chest. Then he bent and repeated what she’d done to him, cupping her breasts and brushing his thumbs over her nipples. Rose sucked in the air at his touch.

“My turn,” she said, fiddling with the fastenings of his jeans. They were so loose that she wondered how they stayed up in the first place. Either they were really baggy because they’d been in the wash so often or he had lost weight after losing Rita; she thought it was probably a combination of the two. When she brushed the denim down, she deliberately ran her palm over the the cotton covering his erection. Dave hissed softly as she sank to her knees to pull the trousers down and help him step out of them.

“Rose,” he said as she looked up at him. She could see in his eyes that her kneeling before him excited him. But there was also fear in them and Rose bit her lip. Obviously, the idea of her pleasuring him made him uncomfortable, but she wanted to spoil him a little. So, without offering him a chance to protest, she pulled down his pants. Reaching for his calves, she helped him step out of them. Then she took him in her mouth.

He cried her name and his fingers tangled in her hair.

She closed her lips around his hard cock and smoothed her tongue against the pulsing vein on its underside, dragging it along his length with some pressure. She experimented a little until she heard him moan, and she felt the rush of her own excitement pool between her legs. This seemed too easy.

“Rose, please,” Dave groaned. His fingers pressed against her scalp, urging her to stop.

Rose let go of him. His voice had sounded distressed, and the last thing she wanted was an uncomfortable Dave. She smoothed her palms against the crease where his thighs dipped into his groin. It was perfect. “What would you like, Dave?”

“I…” he began, his voice cracking.

“I’d love to make you come with my mouth,” Rose said, more boldly than she’d ever been before. It was the truth, and being able to be completely honest about her own desires to him just felt right and wonderful.

Dave swallowed hard at her words.

“I really do. And I don’t expect anything in return. Apart from you enjoying it. Do you trust me, Dave?”

“I do.” He loosened his grip on her head, his fingertips just a light touch to reassure her.

Rose smiled, gripped the base of his penis and guided its head to her lips. “I love the way you taste and feel,” she said, dropping her voice subtly so as not to scare him off.

Dave merely nodded. He dropped his right hand from her hair and found her left one. Their fingers wove into each other’s and it was thus that Rose teased and caressed him until he washed over her tongue. She closed her eyes as his pleasure made him groan out her name.

When she let go of him, his weak knees buckled and he joined her on the hardwood floor, crumbling into her embrace. Rose pulled him close, dropping kisses onto his hair, wondering what she had done to him. His breath was ragged at first, but the longer she held him, rubbing his back, the calmer he became.

“I love you,” she said in reassurance.

Eventually, they moved onto the bed, where she lay half on top of him, her hand protecting his heart. Rose couldn’t find the words to tell him how right she felt this was. She dropped the occasional kiss to his chest and caressed him lazily.

The rain was still pelting against the window panes, and together with their regular breathing Rose couldn’t imagine a more soothing sound.

“I love lying here with you, like this,” Dave said.

Rose purred in reply. She snuggled up closer to him, curling her fingers into his chest hair. He was running his fingers lazily up and down her left arm, sending shivers down her spine. Rose couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt more at peace.

“I love you, Rose Tyler.”

Rose gave his right side a gentle squeeze as pleasure washed through her.

“I’d love to make you come with my mouth,” he echoed her earlier words.

Rose shifted so she could look at him. “Please don’t feel obliged to return the favour.”

“I want to taste you, Rose.”

He moved out from under her and sat back on his heels, looking at her in the twilight of the thunderstorm. Dave took her hand and placed a kiss in its palm. “I really want to.” He then removed her knickers as unceremoniously as she’d taken off his pants, flinging them somewhere in the room. As far as she could tell they hadn’t landed on any of the candles.

Rose lay back and raised her hands above her head to tell him that she was his.


	25. Chapter 25

He desperately wanted to show her how much he loved her, but he feared his attempt would pale in comparison to what she’d already given him. It had been a rare treat for Rita to go down on him, but for Rose it seemed the most natural thing to do their first time together. And here she lay before him, giving herself over to him.

“Dave?” Rose asked, propping herself up on her elbows. Her voice and eyes were laced with concern.

He stared at her, unable to find the right words. To his horror, Rose sat up, scooted over to him and pressed her lips to his, cupping his face. “Let’s have a picnic,” she suggested.

Before she could climb off the bed, he caught her by the wrist, loosening his grip around her as soon as she stilled. “I’m a little overwhelmed,” he said.

“Don’t be, my love,” Rose said, kissing him gently. “Let’s have that picnic and a cuddle. I love snuggling up during a thunderstorm.” It was still much too warm to snuggle up, but Dave nodded gratefully, at the same time unable to shake the feeling that he was letting her down. She’d succeeded in her goal to seduce him, and his response was to chicken out even though he wanted nothing more than to make love to her. Maybe it was still too soon after all.

She slid off the bed and went to the small table to fill their glasses and mix the mascarpone crème with the strawberries. Passing him a glass, she sat on the bed, one leg tucked under, balancing the glass bowl on her knee. They clinked glasses and sipped the cold, effervescent beverage in silence. Dave’s gaze kept wandering to their handprints on the wall.

“I can’t believe you kept them,” he said.

Rose looked at him wide-eyed, obviously contemplating her words carefully. He remembered what she’d said about the meaning of the white wall and mentally slapped himself. Of course she’d keep them to remind her of what — who — she had lost. If he was indeed the Doctor’s doppelganger, their handprints would be more or less the same. He dropped his gaze to the strings of bubbles rising from the narrow bottom of his glass, watching them break at the surface. He’d better leave, accepting the blow-job as a parting gift.

“They’re us. They were created by an accident, just like we were. They’re like scars, something to remember the beginning by,” Rose said softly, brushing back a lock of hair that kept falling into her eye. “I know it sounds a bit daft, but…” She shrugged.

Dave looked up at her. “What?”

“When I kissed you that day I wanted to tell you I love you, but it wasn’t the right moment. I want it as a reminder to keep things slow, but also that I will never hesitate to tell you how I’m feeling ever again.” She took a long swig of her drink, sliding the glass bowl off her knee to set it on the bedside table.

His head was reeling. How could he have misunderstood her so badly? At the same time, however, there was still that little voice that told him that he was too old, and too much of a nobody, for her. That he was just an echo of the man she had loved. But then again, Rose was such an honest woman; she’d never play with him like that. “I had no idea,” he said lamely.

“I know it sounds silly, but that’s me. Big ol’ softie, me,” she echoed his words.

He grinned despite himself and leaned towards her for a kiss. “It’s a lovely sentiment.”

“You’ve been comparing yourself to the Doctor,” she pointed out. For a moment he stiffened but he understood that she hadn’t said that to hurt him but to exorcise that particular thought. “What can I do to make you believe me?”

“I do believe you,” he said, taking her free hand to drop a kiss on her knuckles and smooth his cheek against it. “It’s just… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.”

A flash of lightening bathed the room in its blindingly white light and the thunder followed soon after, tearing violently through the silence. Rose jumped and shifted a little closer to him.

“Would you still like that cuddle?” he asked.

Rose smiled, nodding. They deposited their glasses on the floor in front of the bedside table, laden as it already was with her books and the bowl. He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her with him so she could tuck her head into the crook of his shoulder. They stayed that way for a long time, lazily caressing each other and staring out into the rain and at the pair of handprints.

He couldn’t believe that Rose was lying in his arms, holding on to him with as much fervour as he held her, even after the conversation they’d just had. It was a completely new experience for him and he realised that Rose and he belonged together, that if they could trust each other so much they could make it through anything. He was certain that the children would love her, and that even Anna would grow to like her eventually, although the vivid image of the two of them meeting for the first time made him shiver a bit. But it was going to be a long time yet until that happened. For now, he wanted Rose to himself, to enjoy the little oasis they had built Sunday evenings and Wednesday afternoons. Reality would claim them soon enough. He shuddered at the thought of their relationship leaking to the media, but he also trusted Rose to help him through that and to keep him safe.

Rose’s caresses changed eventually, and what had been idle patterns on his skin became more purposeful and arousing. He dropped his hand from her lower arm where he held her to him to allow her more freedom. Before he knew it, she shifted and leaned up for a lingering kiss. The thunderstorm was still going strong, thunderclaps following strikes of lightning with little or no warning. Dave gave himself over to her, allowing her in and allowing her to set the pace and depth of their kiss. All the while she kept caressing him, dragging her fingertips — and sometimes her nails — over his chest and around and over his nipples. He sighed and hissed in encouragement, eventually cupping the back of her head to kiss her more deeply. All of a sudden he had an insatiable need to make love to her. As insecure as he’d been earlier, he now felt equally self-assured and ready to follow through on his earlier actions.

Eventually he managed to roll them so he was on top; the need to spoil and pleasure her was suddenly overwhelming. Although Rose had said she believed him, he wanted to show her how he felt about her. After kissing her for a while he managed to tear himself away from her lips to discover her body like a lover, to feel and to taste what the artist had already taken in. His heart was beating out a fast rhythm as he began to find out how to make Rose moan and squirm and beg for more.

He found points of pleasure right behind her ear and in the hollow above her collarbone, smiling as she shivered beneath his mouth. All the while her hands were in his hair or on his shoulders, caressing him and letting him know what she liked when words began to fail her. All she was able to say was his name; he realised that she probably wasn’t a screamer, and although he couldn’t wait to find out, he held back because he wanted to take his time.

Eventually, he moved down to her chest, cupping her left breast and teasing the hardened nipple until Rose arched up into him for more. The softness of her skin and flesh amazed him and he moved to taste her, covering the other breast with his hands. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and sucked it into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as Rose cried out softly and moaned.

“Dave…”

He looked up somewhat reluctantly. “Yes, my love?”

“Don’t stop.”

He blinked. “Then don’t distract me.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose before moving down her body to lave the other breast with his tongue. Rose giggled softly and shifted slightly beneath him. Eventually, he started to kiss and nibble a line down her torso to her stomach; the plunge from the edge of her ribs was a bit too steep for his taste, and he thought briefly of the rich dessert sitting on the edge of her bedside table. But then he reached her navel and dipped his tongue into it, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Rose, and he forgot all about it. He remembered thinking he wanted to kiss and suck her hipbone, and, cupping one, he moved his mouth to the other to do just that.

Her fingers were still in his hair, reassuring him, when he moved to the inside of her thighs.

“Dave, please,” Rose sighed.

Again, he looked up. “Please what?”

“Please don’t… don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Aren’t you enjoying this?” he asked, only half-teasing.

“I am,” she said, and for a brief moment he could feel a rush of excitement and pleasure wash over him that wasn’t his. It was Rose’s, but before he realised it she was gone from his mind.

“That’s what it feels like?”

“Yes,” Rose whispered. “Sorry.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s all right.”

He placed a kiss below her navel and smoothed his palm over her mons. “I think we should… share it. One day. If… if that’s okay, that is.”

His words took the burden of the world off Rose’s shoulders. She smiled, nodding. “I’d like that. But I’ve never done it before.”

“That makes two of us,” he said, kissing her again. “Now, where was I?”

He couldn’t believe how bold he’d been to say those things, but it felt right to do so. He nuzzled the soft skin on the insides of her thighs for a while, and when Rose spread her legs invitingly, he placed a kiss on her folds.

“Dave… Dave…” Rose sigh-sobbed, tilting her pelvis towards him.

The scent of her arousal filled his nose and he nuzzled her there for a few beats before tasting her. They moaned together as he flattened his tongue against her sex. He dragged his tongue over her flesh, then flicked its tip over her clit. Eventually, all thoughts left him as he concentrated on establishing a rhythm of sucks and nibbles and licks, listening to Rose’s quiet sounds of pleasure. The sound of his name was just as good as her fingers in his hair and her taste on his palate.

Rose came quickly with a sharp moan, bucking and tightening her thighs around him as more of her flavour washed over his tongue. He stroked her legs in reassurance, humming softly to himself as she gradually relaxed. Dragging his arm over his mouth, he crawled along her body to hold her close.

Her breathing was slowly calming down, and her eyes were closed. The most beautiful thing in that moment was her smile, though. She snuggled up to him as soon as he pulled her towards him, and for a while he just lay there, forgetting about the world and listening to her breathing compete with the sound of the rain against the window panes.

It was still dim, and for a while he stared into the steady flames of the candles she had put onto the window sill. The memory of the brief moment when Rose had shared her sensations with him returned, and he was mystified by how different, how at peace, Rose had felt at the pleasure he had given her. Peace wasn’t really an emotion he associated with making love. Love, naturally, and completeness, certainly, but peace?

“That was wonderful,” Rose whispered, covering as much of his chest with her hand as possible.

“I wish I could be so at peace as you were,” he said, smoothing her hair back and dropping a kiss onto her forehead.

“I was?” she asked, sounding baffled. “All I wanted was your mouth between my legs.” She sat up, dragging a finger along his jaw. “I love you, Dave. That’s why I feel so at peace. I’m… myself with you.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t thought about that, and, taking the notion further, he realised that he felt the same way. With her, it was a game of give and take, of pleasuring each other because they wanted to and because they loved each other. It wasn’t about power, or surrendering to it.

He closed his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

He told her.

She sat still for a moment after he’d finished, holding his gaze. He wanted to lose himself inside her amber eyes, and he put all his emotions into his own to make her believe. He couldn’t just touch her temple and open up to her.

Then she leaned forward for a lingering kiss.

Rose rolled away from him and reached for their glasses of sparkling wine. He smiled, grateful for her breaking the spell that had come over them. They touched glasses and drank.

“This tastes strange after… you and me,” Rose blurted.

His eyes went wide and he could feel his penis twitch at the eroticism of her words.

He watched her take another sip. “That’s better.”

Dave wasn’t sure if she was referring to his hardening cock or to the taste of the bubbly. “You are amazing, Rose.”

She took his glass and put it back beside the bed together with hers. “So are you. Now shift a bit.” She touched his shoulder to make him sit up so she could slide between him and the headboard. Rose knelt and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I want you to enjoy this.” Then she slid her hands down his torso and closed her fist around his cock to stroke it. He threw his head back against her shoulder with a groan, clasping her free hand to his chest.

“Rose!”

“I’m here, Dave, I’ve got you. Just tell me when to stop.” Her breath was warm against his ear and he shivered as her lips brushed his skin. She was experimenting with pressure and speed, trying to find out what he liked. He could have sat like this forever, and then, suddenly, he felt the warmth of being at peace settle on him. For a few heartbeats it was all he felt, despite the magic Rose was working on him.

“Rose, I…”

“I’ve got some condoms,” she said softly, moving out from behind him. “Just sit back.”

He watched her in a daze as she reached for the foil packets she had stashed away in the drawer of her bedside table. He scooted back against the headboard so he was sitting almost upright. Since the light was coming from the window, her back was painted by the shadows and he couldn’t see her scars. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. He’d want to explore them another day. She’d given him so much already.

When she turned back to him with the condom, he picked it gingerly out of the foil she’d already torn open. “I’d like to… if you don’t mind.”

Rose nodded, dropping the wrapper unceremoniously next to the bed. “I am on contraceptives, but I was advised to use those in addition. Just to be completely safe.”

Dave nodded, the idea that she had taken the precaution because she wanted to sleep with him filling him with warm feeling. He concentrated on rolling on the condom and securing it. As soon as he was done, Rose straddled him.

“I… May I be on top? It’s been a while for me and I’m not sure… I just need to be in control this time. If that’s all right.”

Her sudden coyness made him smile. “I’ll be careful, my love.” He wondered how long it had been for her, but he didn’t dare ask her that question.

Rose put her hands on his shoulders, and, after a deep kiss, she shifted onto her knees and forward a little to guide the tip of his cock to her folds. She bit her lip in concentration.

“Relax, Rose.” He kissed her, then he reached between them to brush his fingers over her clit and her folds. “Here, let me help.” He caressed her, sliding first one finger into her, then another. “I don’t want to hurt you, my love.”

At his ministrations, Rose started to moan in pleasure and the tension left her body. Seeing her slump, Dave caught her and rolled them so she lay beneath him. “I know it’s not what you wanted,” he began.

“’s okay,” Rose whispered. She spread her legs to accommodate him. “I trust you.”

Warmth washed through him, and for a moment he forgot about wanting to be sheathed inside her. He kissed her deeply before he shifted to slide into her. The feeling of her velvety wet flesh around the head of his cock was exquisite and he had to hold back. He could feel her tense a little, so he moved only a little at first before he dared slipping more deeply into her. Her muscles were tight around him and his eyes fluttered shut.

“You’re wonderful,” Rose whispered. “I’m fine. You’re… ‘s so beautiful…”

Thus encouraged, he looked at her, kissed her and slid into her as deeply as he could. The feeling of completeness and peace that washed over him made him sigh and he rested his forehead against hers.

“Oh Rose.” Her lips found his for a kiss.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

Gradually, he relaxed, wanting to feel as much of her skin against his as possible. “Is this okay?” he asked, about to settle his weight on her.

“Yes.”

Rose rubbed his back, adjusting beneath him, massaging his penis.

“Rose…” She mightn’t have had sex in a while, but she certainly knew how to pleasure him. It only occurred to him then that she didn’t have much experience. “Rose.”

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, caressing his face as he raised his head.

“I feel…” he began.

“What? How? Tell me.”

“You’re… I don’t want to hurt you. But you feel so good, Rose.”

“I’m fine, Dave, I really am.”

“I’ve never… I know what you meant… how you felt earlier. That feeling of peace…”

“I love you, Dave.”

“I want to… I want to make love to you.”

“Please do.” She groaned as he moved inside her, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her heels were digging into his bum, pulling him close. He began to move slowly, establishing a gentle rhythm that allowed them to kiss and exchange caresses. At one point he would have liked her to be louder, but he knew that she wasn’t like that, that he’d have to learn how to read her when they made love.

“Dave!” she implored him at one point, throwing her head back as far as she could, exposing the pale line of her throat to him. “Please, Dave, oh please. Make me come.”

He picked up the speed then, adjusting their position by sliding his right arm beneath her knee to deepen their union. Rose sob-cried in response, arching into him. With her eyes closed and her mouth open in quiet pleasure she was at her most beautiful and most alluring. He drove into her, wanting to find out what she liked best. “Rose!”

It didn’t take many strokes to make her arch into him in bliss, to cry out softly, and, encouraged by her clenching muscles around him, he followed her soon after, his world exploding into raindrops and her cries and her smiling face.


	26. Chapter 26

The rain had slowed a little, but it was still pattering against the window panes, glittering in the candle light. The sound was unnaturally loud, even through the rushing in her ears and the sound of Dave trying to slow his breathing.

He was propped on his elbows above her, careful not to settle his full weight on her. His eyes fluttered open and he laughed softly, giddily. The candle light made his skin shine warmly and sexily. Rose slid her legs down along his sides, giving him a squeeze for which he rewarded her with a groan. She ran her hands over his slick back and pulled him down onto her. She wanted to feel all of him against her own damp skin.

“For a little while, yeah?” she whispered, stroking his cheek.

Dave nodded dumbly and kissed her, gradually lowering himself onto her. They kissed lazily until Rose felt him soften inside her and she wriggled against him. With a sigh Dave withdrew and hurried to the bathroom to clean himself up. Rose settled down into the bed, getting comfortable as she watched the pattern of the raindrops on the window and then turned her attention to the handprints on the wall.

She worried that opening up to Dave might have been too much. She wondered if he thought she had been playing games with him — seducing him only to admit much too late that it had been a while for her. Years, in fact. She didn’t even want to do the maths on that one. She hadn’t slept with anyone since before she met the Doctor.

When she noticed a movement from the corner of her eyes she turned her head and saw Dave standing just inside the door. She envied him his self-confidence. His nakedness didn’t seem to bother him at all. She dropped her hands onto her stomach, unwilling to cover herself up like a blushing virgin but at the same time feeling self-conscious under his gaze. He was smiling softly.

“Hey,” she squeaked for lack of anything better to say.

“You’re beautiful.”

Warmth covered her body like a blanket. She was far too thin, all bones and angles.

“You are,” Dave said, joining her on the bed and crawling towards her for a kiss. “I wish I could stay the night.”

Rose nodded, surprised at how emotional she felt. It was totally unlike her, and she didn’t even trust herself to speak.

“Hey,” Dave said, stretching out by her side and scooping her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” she began, closing her eyes in concentration.

Dave didn’t press her. Instead, he held her and dropped kisses onto any part of her face he could reach.

“I wish you could too.”

“I’ll have to go soon,” he said.

Rose tensed. She didn’t want him to go. “I’m sorry.”

He withdrew. “What for?”

“For… being so pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” he echoed. He let go of her, and Rose suddenly wanted him to go so she could curl up and have a good cry. “Rose, you… it was wonderful. You’re so generous and open and honest.”

She stared at him.

“If I failed you…” he began, and suddenly it dawned on her that, despite the mind-blowing orgasms they’d shared, both of them felt insecure. She’d never have thought that Dave would doubt himself so, but she quickly realised that she should have. It occurred to her that he had just seen a completely new side of her, and vice versa. They had taken a huge step, and again she wondered if it hadn’t been too soon after all.

“You didn’t fail me, Dave. I feel _I_ failed _you_. It’s just… it’s so new, and… and I haven’t slept with anyone in years, and it’s just so overwhelming.”

“Oh, Rose, I wanted this,” he continued, “I want to be with you. As much as I can.”

“So do I.”

They smiled at each other, embracing and kissing. They held each other for a while.

“I’ll have to go,” Dave said eventually. Dusk was falling so it must be late already, later than usual for him to return from footie practice and drinks.

“Yeah.” Rose didn’t move.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You have to, my love.”

They were silent for a few beats, enjoying their closeness.

“Would you call me a cab?”

Rose hummed her agreement, reluctant to move. She wished he didn’t have to go back to his kids. That they could hide away from the world for the night and make love again. But then she let go of him. She was being selfish. “You should leave some toiletries here so you won’t smell of girly soap when you go home.”

“Evie loves your shower gel,” he said, dropping a kiss on her nose. “Actually, I’ve got my own in my sports bag. But I’ll get the condoms. I feel stupid for not even asking about protection.”

“I suppose you aren’t used to it any more,” Rose said.

Dave stared at her, and she realised that Rita had made contraception her business. “No, I suppose not,” he said.

Rose kissed him and sent him off to the bathroom with a gentle slap on his sexy behind.

When he closed the door to the bathroom behind him, Rose reluctantly climbed out of bed and slid into her clothes. She’d take a shower later. She picked up the dishes and went downstairs to kitchen to make the call. Already, a plan was forming in her mind to spend a whole night with Dave so that for once they wouldn’t have to go through the nightingale-and-not-the-lark routine.

She looked out into the darkening garden and decided to open the patio door again to let in some fresh air. It was considerably cooler and it raised goosebumps on her still overheated skin. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower and crawl into bed. She’d change the sheets the next day; for tonight, she wanted to be surrounded by the rich, earthy smell of their love-making.

After enjoying the cool air for a few moments Rose sat down at the counter and picked up the spoon she had brought down from the bedroom unused. Suddenly, she felt ravenous. She turned on a few of the lights, taking care to keep the lighting to a bare minimum; somehow, turning on the overhead lights felt like breaking the spell that had made the evening so magical.

She jumped a little when Dave wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her below her ear. “Hey you.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “You smell good. Would you like some?” She gave him the extra spoon. “Your cab should be here in a few minutes.”

Dave looked at the spoon thoughtfully before he put it onto the counter top. “I’d rather hold and kiss you.”

Rose smiled, dropping her spoon to turn into his embrace where she was seated on the stool. The scent of Dave’s shower gel filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, sighing in appreciation as his body heat warmed her. They kissed deeply.

“The dessert tastes much better this way,” he said, licking his lips. Rose smiled, took another bite of the dessert and kissed him again. Eventually, a sharp knock on the door separated them. Dave touched her forehead with his. “I’ll see on Wednesday, “ he whispered.

“Yes,” Rose replied just as softly. Although they might see each other before Wednesday they stuck to saying good-bye until their fixed dates. After one last of kiss he opened the front door, picked up his bag and hurried out into the rain. The headlights of the taxi cut bright wedges into the near darkness as it stood parked at the kerb.

-:-

When Dave opened the door, he heard hushed voices coming from the lounge, and they didn’t belong to the children. He recognised Lottie’s voice, her laughter, and he wondered what was going on. He pushed open the door to find Anna and Robin sitting on the sofa, Anna equipped with a glass of white wine, while Robin and Lottie held mugs in their hands.. There was no trace of the bairns, and a quick glance at his watch told him that it was long past their bedtime. He’d missed Evie’s bedtime ritual. Guilt gave his heart an uncomfortable squeeze.

Lottie was the first to notice him. “Hi, Dave.”

“Hello.” He bent to kiss Anna’s cheek and accepted Robin’s hand as his brother-in-law half-rose in greeting. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot about the time. Have you been here long?”

“We came over to see the kids and give Lottie a night off, but somehow…” Anna said. “How was practice?”

“A bit wet, I’d wager,” offered Robin.

“Aye,” Dave said. “We cancelled and went to the pub instead.” At least he didn’t have to lie about the cancelling bit.

“As for the reason and an explanation of why we’re here,” Robin began, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “forgive me for being so blunt, but we really need to get home. Early start tomorrow.”

Dave slumped inwardly. If this was about the compensation, he’d scream. He didn’t want to hear about it. There was no amount of money that could make up for Rita’s death. In fact, taking the money felt like accepting her death and the police’s apology. They’d be buying his forgiveness, and he would never give it to them. Accepting the money felt like a mockery, as if a cheque could make things better.

“Dave, please,” Robin said. “Maybe we should discuss this in private.”

Dave found himself nodding. He’d just had the most wonderful evening; why did reality have to bludgeon him like this? They moved to the kitchen, where Dave moved to the fridge for a glass of water. He’d had enough alcohol that night, and he knew he needed to be as prepared, as mentally clear, as possible for what Robin had to tell him. Somehow he knew that this time, his soft spoken brother-in-law wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Stuart’s firm sent me this,” he said, holding out the letter for him.

Dave took it. “What’s it about?”

“Compensation. The amount his firm are aiming for,” Robin said. “You’d better have a seat.”

Dave slumped heavily onto his chair. He unfolded the letter and skipped right to the amount of money Robin had mentioned. The figure made his eyes boggle and he wondered if the alcohol were affecting him in any way.

“Think of it as the children’s future,” Robin said. “No amount of money can make up for losing their mum, but at least you can make sure that they can do anything they want, even without Rita’s income.”

Robin was right, of course. But the amount in the letter was far beyond his wildest dreams. He wouldn’t spend a single penny of it on himself. It was the children’s money. “We won’t get it, though, will we? I mean, this is preposterous.” He chucked the letter onto the table, where it landed with a sharp noise thanks to the folds. It was a very solid sound.

His brother-in-law didn’t say anything, just took a sip of his tea. He gave him a long hard stare that told Dave he probably would get the money.

“When?” Dave squeaked. “When’s the trial?”

“In a week from Tuesday.”

David exhaled slowly. He’d need to talk to Rose about this. This money would seriously change their lives.

“Dave,” Robin said, sitting on the chair next to him. “Are you going to accept this?”

Dave looked up numbly. He still hadn’t taken the amount in. His thoughts were reeling. They could all go on that working holiday, easily, and not have to worry about accommodation. He told Robin as much.

“You do realise that that wouldn’t even put so much as a dent in the trusts?”

“Trusts?”

“I suggest that you set up trusts for the children. You’ll have to get bank accounts to garner interest and make the money available to them when they leave school. Or you invest in their education before. Anna’s very keen on the idea of sending them to better schools,” Robin explained.

“But they’re happy where they are. The school’s good,” Dave protested. He needed to focus on the familiar.

Robin smiled. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s your decision.”

Dave nodded, still dizzy.

“So, are you going to accept that as compensation?”

He nodded dumbly. He’d be stupid not to. It was about the children’s future. With his income, and even if they’d had Rita’s when she was fully trained, they’d never have been able to offer all four of the bairns such comfort, the best possible education. If anything good were to come of Rita’s death, it was this.

Robin sighed in relief. “Good. I need to pass that on to Stuart’s firm tomorrow.”

“He’s not involved, is he?” Dave asked.

“Not professionally, no. But if Lucy wants him there I’m afraid we can’t stop him.”

“Aye.” Stuart was as much Lucy’s Dad as he was; he didn’t have it in him to argue, no matter how much he wanted Lucy back. He didn’t want her to hate him. He downed his water in one large gulp.

If only Rose were here to discuss this with him. As Vitex heiress she knew much more about money than he did; he was happy if there was enough money in his account to cover the expenses and the bills. Having more money than he needed had never been much of an issue. He did have a savings account with his mother’s money in it, but he’d sworn to never touch it unless absolutely necessary. He’d only ever dipped into it to set up the studio. His father had urged him to make use of it instead of letting it rot in the account, but Dave had always been reluctant to spend the money. Mum would have wanted him to spend it on something meaningful; a bike or a family holiday didn’t live up to that description. If he was honest, he didn’t know what did, apart from his studio.

“Dave?”

He looked up. Lottie was standing just inside the door. Had Anna and Robin left? He hadn’t heard them leave.

“Are you all right? You look as pale as chalk,” she said, moving towards him to take the empty glass and fill it with more water.

“A ghost. We’re as pale as ghosts,” he said softly. “I feel like I’ve seen one. Rita’s, to be precise.” He gestured for Lottie to sit and told her about the compensation. Lottie was speechless. “It’s for the kids, right? I’m doing this for the kids.”

“You’re afraid,” she pointed out.

“Yes, Lottie.”

“Don’t be. Sleep on it, and then try to find someone who you trust to do the right thing with your money,” she said. “Because I’m not trustworthy. I have a million ideas of what to do with that amount of money.”

Dave smiled. Lottie wasn’t the fashion girl. “Like what?”

“The house. You could get a bigger one.”

“It’s my mother’s house. But I know what you mean. It’s a bit small for all of us.”

Lottie smiled. “See? It’s not that difficult.”

“It’s for the bairns.”

“Who says an extension isn’t? An additional bathroom or two? There’ll be enough money left to put in a trust for all four of them,” she reassured him.

“You sure you’re no good with money?” he asked.

Lottie laughed. “Oh yes.” Then she did something surprising. She stood, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Dave. Good night.”

“ _Gute Nacht_ , Lottie,” he said, smiling.

“I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve it,” she said softly, then she left the room. Dave stared after her. Then he realised. He smelled fresh from the shower although he’d said he’d cancelled practice.


	27. Chapter 27

On their third night together, under the cover of darkness, he rolled over to his wife and caressed her until their mutual timidity dissolved.

– Rosie Alison, _The Very Thought of You_

Part 4

Twenty-Seven

“You are perfect!” Dave said in between laughs. “In every way.” He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her. Kissing her hungrily, he backed her against the wall of the hotel room, bracing himself with one hand by her head to avoid crushing Rose. She giggled in between his kisses, her hands at his waist drawing him closer to her.

She had surprised him at lunchtime, after he’d sent her a text telling her that his usually trusty family car had broken down, stranding him in the Highlands after an early-morning shoot. Not being able to see Rose that afternoon had upset him more than the trouble with the car. But she’d texted him back, urging him not to move and have lunch instead — she’d arrange for something. The AA had already arrived, but it would take till the following morning for them to get the spare part they needed to fix it. When Rose had told him not to worry he’d assumed that somehow she’d make the spare part materialise earlier than that so that they could at least have dinner together. Instead, she’d sent a taxi that had taken him to a romantic hotel on the rocky shores of a small loch.

“It’s Wednesday,” she said, as if that explained everything. It did, really, and he dropped his hands to her waist, freeing the tails of her blouse. The need to feel her skin against his was overwhelming. Jolts of pleasure travelled from his fingertips and along his spine straight to his groin.

“Yes,” he sighed, leaving her lips to kiss her jaw and taste her neck. “Rose.”

“I’m here, Dave,” she said, her voice thick with worry and delight at the same time.

“I’ve missed you. So much.”

“And I you, my love,” she murmured, tilting her head to allow him access to her throat, her fingers weaving into the hair at the back of his neck.

“I want you,” he burst out. He wanted her so much it was almost embarrassing. Since they’d made love two nights before he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. He’d dreamed of it, waking with a stifled shout and sticky pyjama bottoms like a teenager. But it was true. He _wanted_ her.

“You’ve got me,” Rose sighed, gasping as his fingers brushed her nipple. He’d somehow brushed the bra out of the way to get what he wanted, where he wanted to touch her.

“Rose, please,” he groaned, rotating his pelvis, grinding his hard cock into her.

“Yes,” she hissed. While he shrugged off his jacket, her fingers undid the fastenings of his jeans and he almost sobbed with relief when she cupped him through his pants. He jerked away from her to slide a hand beneath her black skirt. His eyes went wide when his fingers reached her damp flesh. She hadn’t worn any knickers.

“Minx,” he gasped. Rose cried out when he slid his fingers inside her. How wet she was already.

“Dave!” she moaned, his name a prayer and a plea.

“Condom,” he managed to say. It was in the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket; a whole string of the small foil squares. He’d put them there so he didn’t forget them. They broke apart briefly, he to get one of the packets and shove down his jeans and pants, Rose to hike up her skirt.

He also tore his shirt and vest up and over his head before rolling on the condom. He didn’t want to make love to her half-dressed. He wanted, needed, to be naked. Rose’s eyes went wide when she saw him, but before she could even touch the button tape of her blouse Dave had closed the distance between them. “Don’t, please. I need you.”

They kissed, Rose hooking her right leg around his waist. She hadn’t taken off her heels yet, which made making love to her like this a lot easier. She had one arm around his neck, and he supported her leg and kissed her deeply. “Guide me, Rose,” he whispered.

“Yes.” She reached between them with her free hand and grasped his cock, sliding its head through the slickness between her folds before pushing him into her with a prolonged moan. “Oh, Dave.”

With a tilt of his pelvis, he slid deeper into her, his eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t believe he was making love to her like this, up against the wall in a hotel room, he naked but she almost fully dressed. The feeling of being one with her again was exquisite, and once she couldn’t take him any deeper, he held still, savouring her warmth and her tightness. The heel of her shoe was digging into his bum, and the silk of her blouse felt almost as soft as her bare skin.

“Dave,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. “Please, please do something. Fu… please, I need you. You feel so good inside me.”

He slid out of her almost all the way just to push back inside her as slowly as he could. He’d opened his eyes to look at her as he did so and a current of delight swept through him when she held his gaze. She mouthed his name, daring him. He withdrew only to return with a little more force, eliciting a sigh from her. He adjusted his grip on the back of her knee. Then he slid in and out of her, as slowly as possible this time, trying to make her beg and moan and ask for more, deeper, faster, harder.

But she didn’t. She tipped her head back against the wall, exposing the length of her neck for him to nibble. The next time, he drove himself into her with more force and Rose rewarded him with an almost undignified but satisfying gurgle.

“Like this, Rose?” he challenged her.

“Like this,” she managed to say. “Please, Dave, please. Dave…”

“Touch yourself. I’m so close,” he murmured. “I want… I want us to come together. Can you… can you do that?”

“Yeah.” She reached between them and brushed her fingertips against the length of his cock as he slid out of her before finding her clit and rolling it between her fingers. She moaned as he pushed back inside her, and it didn’t take her long to set up a rhythm that matched his.

“You are perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck, his saliva and her sweat coating her neck and making it shine. “I love you, Rose Tyler.”

She crashed her lips against his. “Make me come, Dave. Make me come.”

And he did. He pushed into her a few times before he could feel the tension coil in his groin. She suddenly seemed tighter than ever and then, with one last stroke and a clench of her muscles, he spilled himself inside her, burying his sob in the warmth of her neck. He could feel her fingernails graze his scalp, and then she, too, cried — she cried! — when she came apart around him.

For a moment, for an hour, they were still, breathing, drinking in each other’s scent, their hearts beating out a frantic rhythm. His knees were pleasantly wobbly, and he needed to adjust his grip around her thigh, digging his fingers into her flesh. But it was perfect. The moment was perfect, she was perfect.

Rose clenched her muscles around him, gifting him with a few more moments of bliss before he needed to let go of her. He did so with the exaggerated care of a tipsy person, not wanting to hurt her as he slid out of her.

Rose smiled at him, drawing him back to her by the back of his neck for a kiss. “I love you, Dave Tiler.”

He grinned and made a few goofy little sounds. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, sobering as he realised that he’d probably pushed into her with enough force to bruise her.

“No, I’m all right. A bit dizzy maybe,” she said, stepping out of her high heels. She seemed so much smaller all of a sudden. She touched his chest. How warm her hand was. “Why don’t you clean up while I…”

“Slip into something more comfortable?” he suggested, finishing the clichéd line. He suddenly felt very damp and very sticky.

She smiled. “A lot more comfortable.” She sashayed into the main room, her fingers already busy with the buttons of her blouse. The thought struck him that he wanted to be the one to do that, but he needed to take care of himself. After giving himself a quick wash he returned to the main room with a damp flannel. It wasn’t really necessary but he wanted Rose to be comfortable. She had slipped beneath the crimson and purple sheets naked.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted.

“So’re you.”

After a few long beats he joined her on the bed to give her the flannel. “I thought you might like this.”

Rose smiled. “Thanks.” After she’d taken care of herself, he snuggled up to her beneath the covers. He hadn’t noticed the slight chill in the room until Rose’s skin warmed him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For rescuing me.”

“Pleasure,” she murmured sleepily, and together they dozed off when no more words needed to be said.

-:-

He suggested they take a walk. It only occurred to him that her smart outfit wasn’t really suitable for walks when he pulled on his own sturdy boots. He’d set off to take pictures that morning, just for his own pleasure. He’d felt the strong urge to get away from it all. He felt guilty for betraying Rita and his children. He felt guilty for hiding away from the world with Rose. Although he had spent a lot of time with the bairns, he couldn’t shake the notion that it wasn’t enough, that he looked forward to Sunday nights and Wednesday afternoons more than he should.

He was so lost in thought that he only noticed Rose had changed into a pair of hiking trousers and boots when she touched his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, are you all right?” she asked, her amber eyes worried.

He smiled weakly. “I suppose I am.” And after a pause, he added, “I feel guilty. We should talk.”

“Yeah,” Rose nodded, her eyes solemn.

“I don’t think this is wrong… us is wrong. It’s just,” Dave interrupted himself to take a deep breath, “the baggage is turning out to be heavier than we anticipated, isn’t it?”

Rose held out her hand for him. “Well then, let’s go.”

“Have you planned this?” he asked, looking her up and down.

She shrugged, tucking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth. “I might have. I have these clothes at the Priory, just in case we have to go out into the country with little notice.”

The idea that she worked for the police flashed up again unbidden, along with the astronomical amount of compensation money. Rose had assured him that she didn’t work for the police; it angered him that he actually had to remind himself of that, and that he’d had this thought in the first place.

“That’s very sensible.”

When they left the drive of the hotel Rose took his hand and asked him what was bothering him. “What’s on your mind, Dave?” she asked.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said eventually. It was true. His mind was reeling. “I’m sorry for taking you like I did.”

“Don’t worry. I enjoyed it; it was just a bit of a surprise, is all,” Rose said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It scared me,” Dave said. “I scared myself. It was… I was almost out of control. I needed you so badly, Rose. I’m so glad you came.” They stopped briefly for an embrace.

“What happened, Dave?” Rose asked as he rested his head on her shoulder. She wove her fingers into his hair.

He told her about his guilt and the compensation. “But at the same time,” he continued before she had a chance to say something, “being with you feels so very right. When I’m with you I get to know a hidden part of myself… a good one.” The last bit he added to make sure that she didn’t misunderstand him. He’d needed to explain to her how he felt so she didn’t get the idea that what they were doing was bad.

“I know what you mean. It is a bit soon,” she said, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. “And I meant it when I said I’d love to meet your kids when you’re ready for it. When _they_ are ready for me. How are they coping?”

“We’ve become very good at cuddling,” he said. “I’m a bit worried about Evie. The others have told me how they feel, but I suppose she’s too little for that. Sometimes I can hear her whisper to her doll. I think she’s in a completely different world then.”

Rose nodded thoughtfully. “Girls like to do that. Dolls are like their best friends, because they’re always there and will always listen. I think she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

“Her brothers make sure she gets most of the cuddles,” he said.

“What about Lucy?”

“She’s with her birth father, and I think the move has done her good. We all miss her terribly, of course.”

“When’s the inquiry?” Rose asked, picking up on his reluctance and changing the topic. Too bad it wasn’t one he wanted to discuss. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rose; he didn’t trust himself. He missed Lucy badly and he was terrified of losing her more than ever, particularly now that he knew how much she enjoyed life with the Quinlans.

“Next Tuesday,” he said. He didn’t really want to talk about it. Although he needed to know what had happened to Rita he also dreaded going there because Robin had told him that it involved CCTV footage and could be otherwise upsetting as well. He definitely wasn’t going to take the children; it would be hard to tell them and to answer their questions, but he didn’t want them there.

“What about the compensation?”

Dave rubbed his eyes. “That makes me feel sick.”

Rose gave him a puzzled look.

“It’s such an unimaginable amount of money. It’s life-changing. Well, if we get all of it. It does seem a bit preposterous to me,” he said. “It’s such a responsibility, but it’d also make the bairns’ future.”

“In my experience, people usually get the suggested amount,” Rose said softly. “I’m not really good with money, but I can give you the number of a trustworthy banker who’ll help you with that.”

Dave sighed in relief. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Thank you.”

They stopped briefly for a hug and a kiss before they continued on their way in companionable silence. The quiet was wonderful, just what he had come for that morning. The wind whispered in the foliage, accompanied by the bubbling of the stream the trail followed. The air smelled sweet and clear, and he sucked it in in big lungfuls. Now that Rose was with him, he felt the rest of the tension melt away.

When they returned to the hotel a couple of hours later it was tea time and Dave excused himself briefly to call the bairns. He didn’t want them to hear the story of his breakdown and overnight stay just from Lottie; he felt bad about being so selfish and spending the night — a whole night! — with Rose as it was.

Ewan answered the phone. “Paul cut his palm open!” Ewan blurted.

Dave could feel his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. “What?”

“It isn’t too bad. He doesn’t need stitches, but Lottie put a bandage on him. She thinks it’s better than a plaster,” Ewan went on blithely. Dave wasn’t sure whether the no-stitches part of the message reassured him or not. But Lottie had spent the previous summer as an ambulance worker’s assistant and he knew her well enough by then to trust her to be able to assess an injury.

“How did that happen?” Dave asked. He glanced briefly at Rose who was looking at him in concern.

“We were playing football in the park. He was in the goal and he tried to block the ball. He fell into the bushes. There was something sharp, like plastic,” Ewan explained.

“You put him in the sticks?” Dave asked. “That’s not very fair.”

“He’s useless,” Ewan agreed, and Dave could see him nod. “But I need to practise.”

“Yeah, you do.” He smiled at Rose to let her know that everything was all right. Then he turned away from her — she was so distracting — to explain to Ewan why he wouldn’t be home that night. The boy didn’t seem too upset by the news. In fact, if he knew his son, they had already made plans for a night without Dad and Ewan was no doubt looking forward to it. It probably involved lots of DVDs. Well, at least he could trust Lottie to stop when it was time. He told them to enjoy, and after he’d talked to Lottie about Paul’s cut he hung up feeling somewhat better.

“They’ve planned a party,” he told Rose, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Good for them,” she says. “It’s great when the parents are gone for the night. Tony and I love it when that happens.”

“Are you close?” Dave asked. As an only child, he had no idea what having siblings was like; he was glad that his children didn’t have to grow up without any.

“As close as we can be with the age difference between us. I love being a child when I’m with him. Playing and goofing around,” Rose said. “I won’t see him as often now though, now that I live here.”

They had dinner sent up to their room. Rose told him she was in no mood to face the other hotel guests, but Dave knew that actually she wanted to protect their privacy. If the children and his family were to learn about their relationship before they had a chance to tell them, all hell would break loose.

They made love again, and when they lay, sated and sweaty, in each other’s arms, Dave realised that he wouldn’t have to leave for the night. They could sleep curled up together and they would be able to make love again in the morning. It was the most perfect day he’d had in a long time, and he nuzzled Rose’s hairline before he drifted off to sleep as well.


	28. Chapter 28

The soft chirp of his mobile woke Dave from the most relaxing sleep he’d had in a long time. Setting the alarm hadn’t really been necessary because his car wouldn’t be repaired until early afternoon and Rose didn’t have to be anywhere, but they had decided to make the most of the time they had together. However, Dave couldn’t bring himself to wake Rose; she had slept through the alarm. She looked even younger in her sleep, and he wondered how a young woman like her could look so tough and so vulnerable at the same time. He still had a hard time reconciling his Rose with the woman who had travelled time and space. The things and people she had seen were far beyond his imagination. She could slip into his mind if she felt like it — and he had to admit that the glimpse she had offered him was more than tantalising.

She was lying on her back, her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, and she offered him an unimpeded view of the map of her scars. Dave rolled onto his side, using his arm as a pillow and curling his free hand beneath his chin. Touching her was very tempting, but he wanted to watch her without making her self-conscious. He hated to think of the pain she had gone through. Seeing her in the street had broken his heart, and the feeling of helplessness that had swept through him as he’d knelt by her side swept through him again. He hoped he’d never have to see her like that again because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Holding her hand seemed like nothing compared to what she needed.

She had suffered them to get back the swashbuckling alien she loved.

The idea that she would do something like this for him made him shiver.

-:-

Dave arrived at home just in time for tea. His body was still awash with the warm glow of making love to Rose and their time together. They had spent the morning and the early afternoon together, making love and exploring the lush, quiet glens around the small loch. He had given her a photography lesson, and they had ended up photographing each other. Eventually, they had tumbled, kissing, in a heap in a clearing and they had just barely made it back to their room.

“Dad!” Evie cried when she spotted him standing just inside the kitchen door. He scooped her up in his arms as she ran towards him. “You’re scratchy,” she complained. He hadn’t shaved that morning; the hotel had provided them with toiletries, but he had shuddered at the thought of using the cheap razor. Plus Rose had asked him to keep the stubble, she enjoyed the sound it made when she grazed her fingertips over it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

“Can I have an extra long story tonight?” she asked.

He smiled wistfully. “Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night.” He really was, but he was also glad of having spent the whole night and a lazy morning with Rose. It was such a gift and he was ready to pay the price for it. There was no telling how long they’d have to keep their relationship secret and so he wanted to make the most of it. For once he wanted to be selfish.

Before he read Evie her story, however, he had a look at Paul’s cut as Lottie changed his bandage. It was a longish, crescent cut that had risen to become an angry red welt. It looked painful and curved around the fleshy part of Paul’s palm. Dave winced when he saw it. “Doesn’t that hurt?” he asked, reinforcing his grip around Paul’s shoulder; his boy was as brave as ever.

“Not really, Dad,” Paul assured him. “It looks worse than it is.”

Dave hummed thoughtfully.

“It looks all right to me,” Lottie said. “It’s closed up nicely.”

“Well, I suppose a doctor wouldn’t say anything different. Would you like some lasagna?” Dave asked, giving Paul a hug. Paul smiled and nodded, watching Lottie as she wrapped a fresh bandage around his palm and wrist.

Dave had rung Lottie on his way home to let her know that he’d picked up dinner, or, rather, the ingredients for it. After the previous night he needed to make it up to them. As he set about to make the lasagna, he wondered if it wasn’t the right time to tell the kids about Rose. As much as he loved having Rose all to himself, the secrecy was something that didn’t come naturally to him. Besides, Lottie seemed to know what his Wednesdays and Sundays were about, smiling gently as she did when she saw him coming home. However, she hadn’t commented on it apart from that one time when she’d kissed his cheek and told him she was happy for him.

While the lasagna was in the oven and he prepared the salad, Sarah dropped in. She’d been out running and made the short detour to check on him. Nursing a bottle of water she watched him as he cut up tomatoes and cucumbers.

“What?” he asked, looking up from the cutting board.

“Rita… Rita never said you were a cook,” Sarah said, pressing the damp bottle against her cheek.

“It’s how I romanced her. Although she probably didn’t think much of my culinary arts — she usually did the cooking once we were together for good,” he said, trying to smile. Her refusal to let him cook had hurt a little at first, but then he had gotten used to it. That way, he’d had more time to play with the bairns, and Rita seemed to enjoy the solitude of the work. It was an arrangement they never discussed.

“Paul seems a little quiet tonight,” Sarah said.

“Would you talk to him?” Dave asked. “I think this might be about his mum.”

Sarah nodded and turned to leave.

“Sarah? Would you like to stay for dinner? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said. The need to talk about Rose was almost overwhelming, and Sarah was the only one he trusted. After all, she and Rita had been close, very close, and Sarah would know what Rita would have thought.

“I’m all sticky,” Sarah said.

“Take a shower. I’ll… I’ll give you one of my t-shirts,” he offered, imploring her with his eyes to stay.

Sarah worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a beat, then she nodded. “All right.” Then she left to find Paul.

Dinner was cheerful, and when they were finished there was only a small helping left in the casserole dish. It had been easily the best lasagna he had ever made. He gave Lottie the night off, and after Sarah and he had put the children to bed — and reading Evie an extra chapter — they curled up on either end of the sofa with a glass of wine. Sarah was wearing one of his t-shirts; anything Rita had owned was too small for her. Besides, it would have felt awkward to see Sarah in her clothes. He’d have to decide what to do with Rita’s things sooner or later.

“Paul just feels a bit under the weather,” Sarah said. “I think he might be coming down with something.”

Dave sighed and looked at the dark red wine. “Thank you.”

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” Sarah asked after a few minutes’ silence. He was grateful for her nudging him because after the enjoyable night they’d had he’d nearly lost his nerve.

“I’ve met someone,” he said. He had been wondering how to tell her about Rose the whole night but he had failed to come up with something appropriate. So he opted for being completely open to his friend, hoping that she would listen and understand him. When he saw her expression, however, he wasn’t so sure if it had been a good idea after all. Sarah was Rita’s best friend, not his. The memory of the kiss popped up unbidden and he closed his eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” Sarah asked.

His eyes flew up to meet hers. What did he want her to say indeed? “I just… nothing.”

Sarah sighed and sipped her wine. “Don’t get me wrong, Dave. I want you to be happy, it’s just… a bit sudden.”

“A bit early?”

She smiled. “That… too. I don’t know. Do you love her?”

Dave’s heart started to pound. It was funny that it only started to beat frantically now, or had it been the whole time and he hadn’t noticed? “Yes.”

“Tell me about her.”

And Dave did. “Her last name is Tyler,” he concluded.

“Tyler? As in Rose Tyler?”

He nodded.

“Oh. Dave.”

“I know. It seems I don’t do simple when it comes to women. But I love her, I really do.”

“From what you’ve told me about her… I find it a bit difficult to reconcile her with the girl from the papers,” Sarah said.

“It’s a role she plays,” he said, deciding not to comment on her use of the word _girl_ when referring to Rose.

“Forgive me for asking, but what tells you she’s not playing a role when she’s with you?” Sarah asked.

Dave nearly dropped his glass. At the same time he could feel the colour drain from his face. For a moment the old doubts surfaced, about Rose seeing a substitute for the Doctor in him, but almost at the same time the memory of being joined with her, in their minds, resurfaced and brushed the ugly thought aside. For that brief, terrifying moment Rose had been completely open, and he’d known that she was honest. He squared his jaw. He could hardly tell Sarah, could he?

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. She shifted forwards so she could touch his leg. For a moment he thought there was something she wanted to add but the moment was gone quickly and he didn’t dare ask. “I had to ask. I’d hate it to see you hurt. Or the children.”

Dave relaxed. “That’s why I needed to tell you. I need to tell the children, but I’m… I have no idea when the right time is to tell them. I don’t want them to think I don’t love their Mum any more. Because I do.”

“I know you do,” Sarah said reassuringly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you when the right time is. I suppose you will just know.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he said with a sigh. He sipped his wine.

“So your breakdown…”

“Really was a breakdown,” he said firmly. “But Rose helped me make the most of it.”

Sarah laughed. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“I’m still grieving for Rita.”

“And you will be for a while yet, but I’m glad you’re not alone. I told you, didn’t I?” she asked, referring to their kiss in the bathroom.

His ears grew warm. “You did. Thank you.”

“Do you think I could meet Rose one day? As _your_ Rose, rather than _the_ Rose Tyler?” Sarah asked.

“I’d love you two to meet. You’ll like each other,” he said.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their wine, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Sarah asked about the inquiry. “I’d like to be there. If you’ll have me,” she said.

Relief swept through him and he felt momentarily dizzy. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

“It’s not going to be easy. But it’ll mean closure.”

He nodded. She was right, of course. “Robin and Rose reckon I’ll get the full amount of compensation Stuart’s firm went for.”

“Dare I even ask?”

He told her.

Sarah slumped back into the cushions. “That’s…”

“Aye. Rose offered the services of her financial adviser.”

“That’s very kind of her.” Sarah finished her wine. “May I tell you something?”

Dave looked at her in surprise, unsure of what to expect, but then he nodded for her to go ahead.

“Don’t send the kids away. If anything, they need their familiar surroundings, and they’re far too down-to-earth to survive at a posh public school,” she said.

He stared at her. “I wouldn’t dream of sending them away. I’ve lost Lucy already; I can’t…”

“I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t seriously think I’d send them away… because I’ve got Rose now?”

Sarah stared at him. And then he realised that he must have put voice to his thoughts.

“If you seriously think I’d even imply that, Dave, you don’t know me at all,” she said very softly.

“I’m sorry, it’s… I’m sorry. Sarah?”

She looked at him. Then she nodded. “It was an Anna moment, yeah?”

He nodded. Anna would think that; she’d suggested as much. Unlike Rita, it was all about appearances and making an impression on people with her. Even if Rita’s ideas about bringing up their children had seemed very restrictive at times, he much preferred them to Anna’s. Although he knew that giving the bairns mobile phones was a good idea it still rankled with him, probably more on Rita’s behalf than his own. He really needed to define his role as a father, to come up with a set of values and ideas he wanted to pass on to his children.

-:-

“Are you sure you want to go to school?” Dave asked, covering Paul’s forehead with his palm to find out if he had a temperature. The boy looked very pale when he came downstairs for breakfast the next morning.

“Yeah,” he said. And then Dave remembered. Of course Paul would want to go to school, because unless he did there was no way he’d be able to go to the extra choir rehearsal that night. There was going to be a wedding the next day, Paul’s first, and he didn’t want to miss that. “I’ll be fine, Dad.”

Dave gave him a hard look. Then he passed him a glass of juice. It was a bit late for that extra vitamin boost, but if anything it’d at least make them feel better. Paul accepted it with a small smile but only sipped at it. Dave wondered if he should insist that Paul stay at home; Paul wasn’t likely to put up a fight, but Dave didn’t have it in him to deny him choir practice. He’d just phone the school and warn his teacher that he didn’t feel too well this morning and ask that he be sent home if he got worse.

“I’ll be fine,” Paul protested rather testily. “Dad! Please!”

“Just making sure you’re all right, yeah?” he said, taken aback by his usually so soft-spoken son’s temper.

“Gosh, Dad, you’re like Mum,” Ewan said, pouring cereal into his chipped bowl.

Dave stared at younger son. “Aye, it’s my job now to make sure you’re okay.” _The days when I deferred to Rita’s opinion are over._

“Yeah, okay,” Ewan said, taken aback by the sharpness of his tone, but without talking back. Dave frowned inwardly. He couldn’t believe that reining in Ewan had been this easy, particularly with that authoritative tone. Was that what Ewan wanted and needed? Firmness?

Dave took the bairns to school before driving to the studio. His schedule was full of shoots but he hoped to meet Rose for lunch at Tony’s. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d seen her last. He missed her. He wanted her there in situations like this morning.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Rose said over the phone. “Friday lunch is always about work. We tend to discuss the week’s events. It’s… good for the soul.”

“Aye,” Dave said. It was a good idea. Still. “I miss you.”

“And I you. Maybe we can meet for coffee later on?”

“I’d love that. I love you.”

Later on, however, he had a call from the Royal Infirmary.

He had just finished a shoot when the phone rang. His stomach bottomed out when the calm voice introduced himself as a nurse. “Mr Tiler?”

“Aye,” he choked.

“Your son, Paul Morris, was brought in earlier. He lost consciousness during choir practice. He’s all right now, but we need you to come as soon as possible,” he said.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Dave said, taking a deep breath. He rang off, taking another few deep breaths. He needed to stay calm now. Paul was okay. It was just the shock of the call. Paul was all right.

Dave didn’t remember driving to the hospital. His phone shrilled just as he walked up to the reception desk. He was about to ignore it when it registered with him that it was Rose’s ring tone. He snatched the phone from his pocket. “Rose, I… I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Me too. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t make it to coffee. I’m sorry,” she said.

“I won’t either. Look, love, I’ve got to go. I’ll ring you later, aye?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

Dave introduced himself to the nurse and asked her about Paul. “I believe he’s still in A&E,” she told him.

“Still? What does that mean?” he asked, confused.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t say. They’re waiting for a consult.”

“A consult? They told me he was all right!”

“I’m afraid there really isn’t more I can tell you. Why don’t you go to A&E — it’s just down that hall — and see for yourself? I’m sure your son would love to see you,” she said.

Dave closed and opened his eyes to gather himself. “Of course. I’m sorry. Thank you.” He hurried down the corridor the nurse had indicated and, beyond a pair of glass doors, found himself in the reception area of A&E. He strode up to the desk and repeated his request. The nurse on duty gave him a long look and nodded gravely. She told him to take a seat while she went to get the doctor in charge of Paul.

Why had they told him that Paul was all right when clearly that was not the case? What had happened at choir practice?

“Mr Tiler?”

Dave looked up. An attractive redhead in blue surgical scrubs was standing in front of him. He rose.

“I’m Dr Noble. I treated your son. Paul Morris?” she said.

All that registered with him was her use of the past tense. “Treated?”

“Why don’t you come with me so I can explain everything to you?” she said, gesturing for him to come with her.

“What happened?” Dave asked, unable to stand. If something happened to Paul… “Is he all right?”

“Please,” she said.

A wave of nausea washed over him. Somehow he managed to follow her into a relatives’ room, where he found himself sitting on a worn leather sofa with a paper cup of scalding tea between his fingers. His worst nightmare seemed to have come true. If Paul was… if he’d lost him too…

“Paul collapsed during choir practice. By the time he was brought here he had regained consciousness, but he was very confused. He complained of a severe headache, a stiff neck and he started to run a fever,” Dr Noble explained.

“He seemed um… a little under the weather this morning,” Dave managed to say. But how had he gotten worse so quickly? He shouldn’t have let him go to school, let alone to choir practice.

“We did a lumbar puncture to check for meningitis, but the result was inconclusive,” she continued.

Dave looked at her in horror. Meningitis?

“When we removed the bandage we discovered that there was no cut at all, not even a hint of a recent injury. Mr Tiler, is there a possibility that Paul… imagined the cut?” Dr Noble asked.

“What? No! He… he cut himself in the park. I saw it. It was angry and red last night,” Dave said.

Dr Noble nodded. “I have arranged for a consult, a colleague who’s an expert in cases like this.”

“Cases like this? What kind of case is Paul?”

“An interesting one. Dr Henley and I have decided to transfer Paul to a special facility where the diagnostic equipment is much better,” Dr Noble said. “If you agree to the transfer we can start straight away. We’ve only been waiting for you. I suggest that you go home and pack a few of his things before joining him.”

Dave nodded numbly. “Of course.” He’d do anything for his children. “Where are you taking him?”

“Torchwood Medical at the Priory.”


	29. Chapter 29

Rose slipped her mobile into the pocket of her trousers. Dave had sounded so crushed when she’d told him that Friday lunch was not an option, and now she’d had to cancel coffee as well. She felt very bad, a feeling that was compounded by the fact that he had sounded more than a little distressed on the phone. She hoped it wasn’t anything bad. She’d have to ring him later to make sure that he was all right.

Mickey had just popped in to let her know that they had a new case to work. It involved children, something which always made her more tense than usual. It was just a bit too close to home, now that she had a little brother; she usually had a hard time distinguishing between her job as a Torchwood agent and her job as a big sister. Tony trusted her and adored her — if one day she should fail him in any way she knew she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Every child she worked with was like Tony in a way. Even Lucy, particularly Lucy, had taken a special place in her heart because she had to face adolescence without her mother.

“What’s up?” she asked Mickey as she buckled the seat belt in the Torchwood SUV.

“Dominic got a call from one of his friends at the Royal Infirmary who has a patient, a young boy, presenting unusual, contradictory symptoms. They tested him for meningitis and Dominic reckons it’s probably best if we pull in the boy’s siblings. Just to make sure,” Mickey explained as he pulled out of the Priory drive.

“What does Dominic think?”

“Nothing as of yet. The father has just given his consent for the boy to be transferred to ours, so we’ll have to see what it is all about. Hopefully nothing,” Mickey added. “I hate it when children are involved.”

“You’re telling me,” Rose mumbled.

“We’ll meet the father at the family home. Dominic’s friend has told him to go there to pick up a few things before going to the Priory,” Mickey said as he pulled into the traffic.

“This is going to be bad,” Rose murmured, studying her hands in her lap. She had a bad feeling, a premonition, which was creating a hollow pit in her stomach. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but it upset her because she’d learned to trust her instincts and this felt different somehow. She tried not to let Mickey see, but she couldn’t keep from wanting to free herself from the safety belt and run.

“Rose?” Mickey asked in concern, glancing at her sideways occasionally.

“I’m… this is going to be bad.” She stared at the SatNav, her eyes following the blue arrow representing them on the map of Glasgow.

“Rose, babe, what’s wrong?” Mickey asked, now more worried than ever. He stopped at a traffic light and looked at her, reaching across the gear box to cover her clenched fists with his hand.

She looked at him, making no effort to hide her distress now.

“Is it… some Bad Wolf thing?” Mickey asked.

Rose turned her gaze inwards. Was it Bad Wolf? She hoped not, because if it was her rearing her terrifying head then heaven have mercy on them. She wanted it not to be Bad Wolf, she wanted it so badly.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But I’m having a powerful premonition.”

Mickey sighed. “Sometimes you scare me. _She_ scares me.”

“You’re telling me,” Rose replied for the second time that day.

“Well, let’s get this over with. Maybe your instinct is wrong,” Mickey said, trying to be cheerful. Only it didn’t really work.

“Yeah.” Neither of them believed it.

Hillingdon Drive, their destination, was in a nice residential area. Mickey parked the car at the kerb just outside the gravel drive of number five. The garden was well-kept, but Rose suspected that her Mum’s gardener would have something to say about it.

“Well, here we go,” Mickey said quite unnecessarily.

“How many kids are we talking about? And how old?” Rose asked, sliding out of the car. Focusing on the facts always helped her to keep the nerves at bay.

“Two. A five year-old girl and a nine year-old boy. Evie and Ewan. There should be an au-pair with them,” Mickey said. He, too, took comfort in the facts.

“Would you…?” Rose asked as they walked towards the front door. She preferred hiding behind his back when they had to knock on doors because people tended to be too surprised by her.

“Sure,” Mickey said, stepping up to the glass door and knocking on it.

The sister, Evie, answered the door. She was a cute little girl with huge, curious eyes behind her glasses. She looked up at Mickey, her smile fading a bit. When she glanced at Rose, her expression changed from recognition to surprise.

“Hello,” Mickey said, crouching in front of her. “Are you Evie?”

Evie looked from Rose to Mickey and nodded.

“My name’s Mickey, and this is Rose.”

“I know,” Evie said.

“Is your au-pair in, Evie?” Mickey asked.

“You have to wait here,” Evie said. “I can’t let you in.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Rose said, smiling. “We’ll wait.”

As Evie closed the door Mickey climbed back to his feet. “This _is_ going to be bad,” he said softly.

Rose wished the kids’ father would arrive as soon as possible — he’d be a lot better at explaining what had happened to Paul than Mickey and she. They didn’t know the children at all and were bound to make mistakes. Rose had never felt as much out of her depth as she did right now.

After a short while the door opened again. Rose was a bit surprised at the young woman’s hennaed dread locks, but the frown on her face soon demanded her full attention. “How can I help you?” Her English was accented, but Rose couldn’t tell yet where she was from.

Mickey presented his ID. “I’m Mickey Smith and this is Rose Tyler. We’re with Torchwood Institute. May we come in? It’s about Paul. Morris.”

She didn’t stop frowning. “I’ve never heard of you. Are you police?”

“We’re not affiliated with them, but what we do includes policing in a way. We deal with paranormal activities and aliens,” Mickey explained.

“What has Paul got to do with that?” the young woman asked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Rose said. She was fairly certain now that her accent was German, but she needed to be sure.

“Lottie.”

“Aliens!?” A boy, Ewan, popped up behind Lottie, giving Mickey and her a once-over.

“ _Können wir unter vier Augen reden, Lottie?_ ” Rose asked, not wanting the boy to overhear what exactly it was that she had to discuss with the au-pair. Lottie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she was still reluctant to allow them in. _Clever girl_ , Rose thought.

“ _Wer sind Sie?_ ” Lottie asked.

Rose quickly explained about Torchwood again, then added, still in German, “Paul became seriously ill during choir practice. The doctors at the Royal Infirmary have no idea what’s wrong with him so they’ve transferred him to our own clinic.”

“Oh. _Bitte, kommen Sie herein._ ” She stepped aside to let them enter.

“What are you talking about?” Ewan demanded to know. “What’s this about aliens?”

“I want you and Evie to go to your rooms, Ewan,” Lottie said, taking the boy by the shoulders and looking at him intently. “I’ll tell you everything afterwards, right?”

Rose could see storm clouds gathering above the boy’s head, but Lottie was firm and so he took his little sister by the hand and they went upstairs, albeit a bit more noisily than necessary. Rose exhaled briefly.

“He can be a handful,” Lottie said in English.

“I’ve got a little brother,” Rose nodded, smiling.

Lottie took them to the lounge, where she offered them a seat and something to drink. She disappeared briefly to get them a glass of water each — tea would take too much time. While she was gone, Rose glanced briefly around the room. The bookcase on the far wall caught her eye, and she couldn’t help taking a look at the books. Looking at books reassured her; things had gone smoothly so far, but she wasn’t fool enough to let that lull her into a false sense of security.

Mickey was taking a look at the array of framed photographs lining the mantelpiece. “Rose, you’d better look at this.”

She dropped her hand by her side; she had been trailing it over the spines of the books as a further anchor. When she joined Mickey at the fireplace, he held out a silver frame for her. She plucked it from his fingers, angling it so that the light didn’t reflect off the glass. Her breath hitched.

It was a photo of Dave, laughing at something. It was a gorgeous snapshot of him, but her insides turned to ice.

“What…?”

“Excuse me?” Lottie’s voice made them turn around, the frame still clutched in Rose’s fingers. Lottie held out two glasses for them, frowning a little as she saw them studying the family portraits.

“Who is this?” Mickey asked, gesturing at the frame.

“Dave. Tiler. The kids’ dad.”

“I thought you said the children’s name was Morris,” Rose said dumbly.

“It is. Morris is their mother’s name,” Lottie said. “She died a few months back.”

-:-

Dave stomped down on the brake, narrowly avoiding a massive lorry.

He let the driver’s curses wash over him, trying to regain his composure. It wouldn’t do to leave his bairns fatherless.

It occurred to him that he had failed to ask Dr Noble how Paul actually was, or to see him. Shame made him close his eyes. He hadn’t even asked to see Paul. But neither had Dr Noble offered. Did that mean that Paul was in no shape to receive visitors?

A honk brought him back to reality, and he engaged the clutch to continue on his way, feeling like a beginner again as he navigated Glasgow’s streets with the utmost caution. He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned into Hillingdon Drive. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a huge black SUV parked outside his house, but as soon as he pulled into the drive he had forgotten about it.

How was he going to tell Ewan and Evie that their brother was seriously ill?

He needed to call Lucy. And Anna and Robin. Particularly Robin. If this was some strange illness, he needed all the legal support he could get. And Rose. He had to tell Rose. She’d know what to do, how to help him through this.

His worst fear, losing one of the children, had suddenly become real and not in the way he’d been expecting to with Lucy’s departure to Edinburgh.

Shifting in his seat, he fished the phone out of his pocket and speed-dialled Rose.

“Hey,” she said.

“Rose.”

“Dave? Love?” she asked, her voice trembling. _Why is it trembling?_

“Paul is sick.”

Rose didn’t say anything.

“Paul is sick.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“At home. On my way to… the Priory,” he added. And then he realised. The Priory. It’s where the National Heritage Trust was located. He hadn’t noticed Torchwood Medical when he’d been there to meet Rose’s colleagues.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

He nodded.

“Dave?”

“I need you. Please. I can’t do this on my own. It’s… I’m so terrified of losing him.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry, Dave. I’ll be there.”

He closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be fine. Paul will be fine.”

He wondered how she got the confidence to say these things. He wanted to believe her so much. “Aye.”

“I love you, Dave. You know that, right?”

“Aye. I love you too.”

He ended the call.

He got out of the car, suddenly realising how much time had passed. It was funny how wanting to be with Paul was at the same time the most important and the most terrifying thing in the world. He had no idea how he was. What was he supposed to pack? What did a boy need in hospital? He had been in hospital as a boy for an appendectomy, but he couldn’t remember any of the things his mother had brought him. Well, toiletries, obviously. His pyjamas. But what else? Socks? Underwear? His robe? What about personal things? Would he be able to read? Paul would take comfort from his Bible.

Lost in thought, Dave hurried inside and stopped by the parlour to tell Lottie. Hopefully, Evie and Ewan weren’t there. As he was about to open the door, it was opened from the inside and out came Lottie. She looked flustered and worried, and she started and screamed when she nearly ran into him.

“Lottie?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Dave. There are two people in the parlour. They’re from Torchwood,” she stammered.

“Paul,” he said, feeling the colour drain from his face. So it was real. In the car he’d been wondering about Torchwood. Most of what he’d heard about them wasn’t exactly complimentary, no matter what they had done after the Battle at Canary Wharf. They fought aliens and had to do with all manner of fantastic things, half of which he didn’t believe. To him, Torchwood was a secret organisation that wasn’t to be trusted.

“Yes. They want to take Evie and Ewan to the Priory. Just to make sure they’re all right as long as they don’t know what exactly Paul suffers from. It’s just a precaution. I’ll come, too, of course,” Lottie said.

Although an icy fist had closed itself around his heart Dave smiled. “That’s very sweet of you. Would you do me a favour and pack a bag for Paul?” The idea of Ewan and Evie at Torchwood – even as a precaution – made him want to throw up. He forced the nausea down.

“Sure.”

“I’ll tell Evie and Ewan,” he said when she was halfway up the stairs. She acknowledged him with an “Okay” before continuing on her way.

Dave took a deep breath and entered the parlour, not knowing what to expect.

“Oh,” was all he managed to say when he recognised Mickey. _What is he doing here?_ And then he noticed Rose.

“Hello, Dave,” she said, rising from his favourite corner of the sofa.

He just stared at her.

“Dominic is taking care of Paul. He’s an excellent doctor,” Rose said eventually.

“You’re Torchwood. I should have guessed,” Dave said flatly. “So this… thing Paul has… Is it alien? Will it kill him?”

“We don’t know yet. He’s just arrived at the Priory. We’ve come to pick you and the kids up. You might want to pack a bag for them too,” Mickey said.

Dave tore his eyes away from Rose. “Are they ill as well?”

“Hopefully not, but we thought that having them — and you — stay at the Priory would comfort Paul and reduce travelling,” Mickey explained.

Dave nodded. That made sense. “Can Lottie come too?”

“Of course, there’s room enough. We have… guest rooms for exactly that case,” Rose said.

“Give me a few minutes, will you?” Dave said. “Help yourselves to tea; you’ll find everything in the cabinet above the kettle.”

“Thank you,” Rose said. The way she was smiling suggested that she thought he was more in need of a cuppa than Mickey or she. He couldn’t believe she was with Torchwood; that she was here, telling him about Paul’s… illness.

He went upstairs to tell Evie and Ewan.

“Did aliens eat his brain?” Ewan asked wide-eyed after he’d finished.

“What on Earth gives you that idea?” Dave asked, looking at his son in horror. He was definitely watching too much TV.

“Well, that Mickey Smith guy said something about aliens to Lottie,” Ewan said.

“We don’t know what happened,” Dave explained. “They’ve taken Paul to Torchwood Medical because their equipment and doctor are better than the hospital. He’ll find out what’s wrong with Paul and fix him.” He had no idea where that trust came from, but he didn’t want to question it too much. He needed it, desperately. He needed to be strong for Ewan and Evie. And Paul.

Just then Rose found him in Ewan’s room with a steaming mug of tea. “I thought you’d like some,” she said softly after she’d rapped her knuckles on the door frame to catch his attention.

Dave smiled and rose from where he’d been crouching on the floor. “Thank you.”

“We’ll need to pack a few things,” Rose said. “Paul’s waiting for you at the Priory.”

“Is he all right?” Ewan asked.

“Yes, I just talked to Dr Henley on the phone. Your brother’s feeling much better.”

Dave closed his eyes in relief. He took another fortifying sip. “Well, get your big bag, we’re going to stay overnight to keep Paul company.”

“Cool!” Ewan cried.

“I’ll go and help Evie,” Rose offered, laying her hand on his arm.

“Thanks.”

“We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Aye.”


	30. Chapter 30

“Allow me,” Rose said, plucking the car keys from his fingers as he was about to unlock the car. “You’re a wee bit emotional right now, and we have a policy of not allowing people to drive in situations like this.”

“Can we go with Mickey, Dad?” Ewan asked. Of course he’d spotted the monster of a car parked in the kerb. Rose could see how torn Dave was. He’d want his children with him, but he also didn’t want to deny them this pleasure if it distracted them from worrying about Paul. Dave nodded, and once he had bundled them into the SUV, Evie in her rather incongruous-looking car seat, he slumped into the passenger seat of his own car.

“They’re not worried about Paul,” he said, tipping his head back against the seat.

Rose looked at him in surprise. She’d assumed she was the one who could read minds.

“They trust you completely. To Ewan it’s more like a big game. Aliens. Torchwood. That… car.” He turned his head to look at her.

“But you don’t trust us,” she stated calmly. It wasn’t anything new. She knew that they’d have to earn Dave’s trust, particularly since she had been evading his question about what she did for a living.

“The National Heritage Trust?”

“It’s a real job, and I love doing it. It’s not like we’re repelling alien invasions all day. In fact, our job is mostly boring,” she said. “And most aliens we’re in touch with are actually quite nice. Not a whole lot different from us, they're just ordinary people from other star systems.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you.”

“Dave.”

“Take me to the Priory. Please.”

Rose nodded, sensing that he needed to be left alone with his thoughts. It was a lot to take in all at once. She appreciated that, but at the same time she needed to reassure both Dave and herself. When she’d said she wanted to meet his children she’d certainly not intended for it to happen so soon — and not quite in this way. She’d had no idea that his children didn’t share his last name; she should have guessed, though, because he’d told her that he and Rita hadn’t been married.

And then she realised.

Lucy’s last name was Morris.

She’d recently lost her mother.

Dave had a daughter he considered his although he wasn’t her birth father.

“Oh my God,” Rose whispered. Luckily, she had to pull up at a traffic light, which gave her a few moments to gather herself. She needed to confirm that his Lucy was the girl she'd been talking to, but now was not the time. Or maybe it was — whatever she revealed to him now would hit him hard, but at least it would put an end to awkward and difficult revelations.

“What?” Dave had turned to look at her.

Rose closed her eyes briefly.

She found she didn’t have it in her to tell him, not in the car. He’d demand a lot of explanations, rightly so, and she wanted to be able to give him her full attention when she discussed this with him.

“I just realised something,” Rose said, and she flashed him a quick smile.

“Ah.”

They lapsed back into silence when she didn’t offer any more information. They didn’t speak a word until she steered the car into the courtyard of the Priory. Mickey’s SUV was already parked there, and Lottie was untangling Evie from the strapping of her car seat. Surprisingly, Ewan stood very still, clutching his overnight bag and staring at the grey stone façade.

A bundle of nervous energy, Dave bounded out of the car as soon as Rose had stopped.

“Oh, Dave,” she sighed, pulling the key out of the ignition. She remained in the car to give him some space and watch him with his kids. As soon as Lottie had helped Evie out of the car, she ran to her father to be picked up. Dave shifted her to sit on his hip and kissed her cheek. Ewan joined them and stood very close by his side.

Rose averted her eyes. She was torn between offering her love the support he needed and maintaining the professional distance she needed to do her job. Add to that the fact that his children didn’t know who she was and the mess the potential to become the perfect storm. It would be impossible to pretend that Dave and she weren’t in love with each other. The only decent way out of this would be to give up the case — how she hated that word — to Mickey so she could be there for Dave.

She wasn’t so sure, however, if that gesture would be welcome. The silence in the car had been strained after he had made it quite clear that Torchwood terrified him. And then there was the small matter of telling him about Lucy and her involvement with the Institute. The best thing to do would be to just tell him, and as soon as possible.

Eventually, she got out of the car and joined Mickey, Dave and the children at the entrance; they had been waiting for her. She held out the car keys for Dave, not realising that he couldn’t take them because he was holding his little daughter. Flushing, she slid the keys into her own pocket.

“I’d like to see Paul now, please,” Dave said softly. His voice sounded weary and full of grief. Her heart broke, and, unable to speak, she preceded them into the foyer of the Institute and towards the elevator that would take them down to the clinic.

“Let’s talk to Dominic first,” Rose said when the doors slid open onto the foyer of the clinic. The decorators had taken great care to make the vaults look bright, and if not exactly airy, to at least trick people into assuming that this part of the building was not underground.

Dominic came striding towards them, and he did a brief double-take when he recognised Dave. “Hello, Dave,” Dominic said, and, turning towards the children, “And you must be Evie and Ewan?”

“Dad? Do you know him? Dad?” Ewan asked, looking in confusion from Dominic to Dave.

“Yes, we’ve met before,” Dave said, looking cautiously at Rose for guidance. She shook her head slightly to let him know that the children still didn’t know who she was.

“This is Lottie,” Rose said, gesturing at the young woman. “She’s the au pair.”

“There’s a family room right over there. Make yourselves at home. There’s tea and some biscuits, I believe,” Dominic said. “May I borrow your Dad for a bit?”

Evie nodded reluctantly and Dave let her down with a hug and a kiss. It was painfully obvious how reluctant both of them — and Ewan — were to let go of each other. “I’ll come and get you as soon as possible,” Dave promised.

Dominic led them to his office which overlooked the river bank. They sat in the comfortable armchairs by the French windows. Dave sat reluctantly, the need to see his son almost overwhelming. The tension that radiated off him was palpable, and Rose wondered what would happen if he vented his fury.

“Frankie is with Paul at the moment,” Dominic began. “She’s the nurse who looked after him when he was brought into A&E. The two of them get on quite well.”

Dave nodded, his patience running thin.

“Paul collapsed at choir practice. The conductor had noticed that he was very pale, but when he asked him, Paul insisted he was all right,” Dominic began.

“I shouldn’t have let him go,” Dave said. “He felt under the weather this morning.”

“If he’d stayed at home, he’d have collapsed there. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Whatever’s in his system has had enough time to make him properly ill,” Dominic said.

“And what is in his system?”

“Dr Noble did a lumbar puncture. We do this to test for meningitis.”

“I know! I know that already!” Dave said in a strained voice.

“Then I suppose you also know that the result was inconclusive,” Dominic continued. “I’m afraid I’ll have to repeat the test in a couple of hours, and we’ll have to treat you and the rest of the family. Just as a precaution.”

Dave closed his eyes and leaned back. The room was silent while he gathered his thoughts. “Of course. But Dr Noble also said something about the cut?”

“Yes, about that,” Dominic said. “It appears the cut in his palm healed so quickly and well that you can’t even tell it was ever there. Which is why Dr Noble alerted me.”

“Well, he got the cut playing footie in the park,” Dave replied, clearly confused now. His brow was so deeply furrowed that Rose wanted to smooth with her thumb. She so wanted to sit beside him and hold his hand, but she doubted he'd appreciate the gesture at the moment. They definitely needed to talk, and soon.

“On Wednesday, if I’m not mistaken?”

Dave confirmed this with a nod.

“Wounds like this don’t heal that fast, Dave. Not even paper cuts. ”

“What are you implying? That my son is some kind of freak?”

“Not unless he has a history of healing himself that quickly,” Dominic said, but Dave only glared at him. “I want to find out more about the cut, and that’s why I need Ewan’s help.”

Dave’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Paul was so drowsy that I didn’t want to bother him with the questions.”

“So it’s about the cut now? Why do you want to treat us for meningitis?” Dave asked, his frown deepening.

“Because the symptoms are there and meningitis is a serious illness. I just want to be sure.”

“What about that cut then?”

“Ideally, we’d need to find the object on which he cut himself.”

“And then you’ll be able to come up with a treatment?” Dave concluded. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Tell me, is this… Is he… going to die?”

Rose looked, shocked, from Dave to Dominic.

“I can’t say.”

Dave looked at Dominic in horror. “How…?”

“I’ll treat Paul for meningitis. He presents typical symptoms, but there must be something else in his system that’s responsible for making the lumbar puncture inconclusive,” Dominic explained.

“Oh God,” Dave whispered, his frown replaced by paleness. “I take it we’ll have to get a lumbar puncture as well?”

“No. You’ll get some antibiotics, but I’d like you to stay overnight. Also for Paul’s comfort,” Dominic explained.

Dave relaxed slightly, nodding.

Dominic stood. “I’ll need to talk to Ewan now, if that’s okay. I’d like you to be there.”

“Can we wait five minutes? There’s something we need to discuss,” Rose asked.

Dominic nodded and left his office.

“Five minutes?” Dave asked. “So that’s all we need, eh?”

“Cynicism doesn’t become you, Dave,” Rose said softly.

“Well, how would you feel if you were me? The person you love turns out to be a secret agent and drags you and your family to the underground medical facility of a shadowy organisation with blood and tears on their hands,” he blurted.

Rose took a deep breath. She ignored the pain in his voice and focused on how she could help him. “I’ll leave the case to Mickey so I can be just Rose for you if you want.”

He stared at her. “You’re the second one today who refers to Paul as a case.”

“Do you really want to discuss semantics, Dave?” Rose asked, trying to remain calm. “I’m here to help you, and I can do that as a secret agent of a shadowy organisation with blood and tears on their hands, or as the woman who loves you and supports you, no matter what. It’s your decision.”

“The kids don’t know, and I can’t spring this on them now as well,” Dave said. “Are you any good?”

“The best,” Rose answered, trying to ignore the hurt at his rejection of her support as his lover. But he was right, of course.

Although Dave nodded, it was obvious that he didn’t really trust her or Dominic. Rose hoped that they’d earn their spurs, but what was more, she hoped that Dave would eventually come to terms with the job she was doing.

“We should go to Ewan,” Rose said, rising.

“You’ll be there?”

“It’ll save time in case he tells us something important about the park. I’ll put together a team and we’ll go and see what we can find out,” Rose said.

“So time is of the essence?”

“It always is,” Rose said. “Don’t… Just trust us. We’re good at this.”

Dave sighed. “What choice do I have, eh?”

-:-

In the end, Mickey and Rose had bundled Ewan into the SUV and driven to the park where he and Paul had played to give them the exact location. Dave would have liked to go with them, but he needed to be there for Paul; besides, Ewan had perked up at the prospect of being able to help his big brother.

He still couldn’t quite grasp what had happened. It wasn’t until he’d sat in the sunny office of the shadowy organisation that he had taken a deep breath and decided to invest all his power and strength in his family. They needed him most now. He had been very tempted to accept Rose’s offer; he couldn’t tell what giving up her leadership would have meant to her, and he didn’t want to dwell on it because right at that moment he thought he didn’t know her at all. Better to focus fully on his children.

What shook him most was the uncertainty of it all. He’d wanted to rage at Dominic for all the questions their conversation had raised rather than answered, but something told him that Dominic was as frustrated as he and doing his best. Rose had been right. He had no choice but to trust Torchwood.

He tried not to dwell on the Institute too much either. The stories he had heard had made him sick with fear, and part of him had written it off as urban legends. Metal men that offered people an upgrade to rid them of emotions, of individuality. Uggsomegauts appeared as well, the stuff the horror stories of his childhood were made of. Requisitioning the Priory for the purposes of The National Heritage Trust.

Dave laughed. He was working for The National Heritage Trust — did that mean that he was working for Torchwood itself as well, unknowingly cataloguing sites of paranormal or alien activity?

What did that imply about Paul’s illness? Was it just… a strange case — there was that word again — or were aliens involved? A new mutation of whatever it was that caused meningitis? It must be that. _Please let it be that._

He had no idea where that left Rose and him. That was something that he could wonder about later.

Frankie, the nurse, offered him a minuscule paper cup with a pill in it and a glass of water. “The antibiotics,” she explained. She was a tall, angular woman with short blonde hair and warm blue eyes. Dave felt she was the only person in the Priory he could trust. She gave Lottie and Evie a cup and glass as well, and after he and Lottie had each taken their pill, Evie took hers as well. It occurred to Dave that Rose might need to take one as well, considering how… Well.

“Dave?” Lottie asked, her voice small.

“Yes?”

“I’m… I feel responsible for this.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“If we’d had the cut looked at by a doctor,” Lottie began.

“It’d probably have healed just as fast,” Dave said, although too had wondered if maybe that would have made a difference. But he still trusted Lottie’s first aid skills, and he doubted he’d have taken Paul to a doctor even if Lottie hadn't been around. “The what-if game won’t change anything. Don’t beat yourself up, Lottie. You did your best, and I’m grateful to you for that.”

This seemed to reassure Lottie somewhat; he put an arm around her shoulder and drew her towards him for a hug.

“I’m scared, Dave,” she mumbled against his chest.

“So am I. We’ll have to trust them.”

“Dad?” Evie piped up.

He let go of Lottie and crouched in front of Evie. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I want to see Paul.”

“Can we do that?” he asked, turning to Frankie. He’d wanted to see his son so badly, but somehow things had prevented him from doing so.

“Of course. But he’s asleep at the moment.”

“I’d just like to be with him if that’s all right,” Dave said.

Frankie took them to Paul’s room. It looked out over the river as well, and apart from his bed there was also a sofa which made the room look surprisingly homey. Of course there was the usual medical equipment as well, but somehow it looked less… like a hospital than he’d expected. Then again, they weren’t in a normal hospital.

Paul was asleep, and he was very pale, but he looked relaxed. Dave’s gaze travelled immediately to his hand, where the bandage should be, but when he took it to see for himself how well it had healed, he was surprised that Dominic hadn’t exaggerated – there was no trace of a wound.

“Dad.”

“Hey, Paul,” Dave said, sitting on the edge of his son’s bed. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, don’t worry.”

“Where are we?” Paul asked.

“They’ve referred us to a special clinic that will find out why your cut healed so quickly,” Dave explained. He didn’t want to tell him that they were at Torchwood.

“Is that why I don’t feel so great?”

“We don’t know.”

“Are you in any pain, love? Is there anything you need?” Frankie asked, bringing a tray laden with biscuits and drinks.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I’ve got some of your things in the car.”

“We’re going to stay here with you,” Evie said, propping her chin on her folded hands on the edge of the bed; it was just about the right height for her to do so.

“Great,” Paul said, attempting a smile. When Dave reached out to ruffle his hair Paul’s eyes rolled up and he arched off the bed, his shoulders and head pressing deep into the pillow. Evie jumped, startled, and looked on in horror as her brother’s body turned and twisted on the bed like a rag doll in the hands of an irate child. Helpless, Dave stood by, not knowing what to do until finally someone cried out for help. The room then exploded into a whirlwind of action as he was pushed aside by Frankie.

He realised much later that it had been he who had alerted Frankie – his voice was nothing but a croak when he managed to speak again. Evie looked at him with wide eyes, and to his horror he noticed that they weren’t only worried but terrified too.


	31. Chapter 31

Ewan was very quiet after Mickey had ensured that he was securely buckled into the back seat of the huge SUV. Unlike earlier, when they’d first driven to the Priory, the excitement seemed to have deserted the boy. He sat in his seat, his fist closed around the grip in the door, looking out through the tinted window as they made their way through the city to the park near his home. Rose should have guessed that all he was doing was gathering his thoughts. It was his very first question that threw her.

“How come you know Dad?” he asked. It must have been obvious to him that his father and she knew each other from the way they interacted. He was a very smart and perceptive kid. It would be hard to keep anything from him, but it also meant that he’d understand exactly what was going on, what was at stake.

“I met him at a charity event, where he took some photos of me,” Rose said, deciding that honesty was the best approach. Well, the short, official version. “And we talked for a while.”

“I saw the pictures. My big sister had them in one of her magazines.”

“He did a great job, didn’t he?” Rose said, smiling. She turned around in her seat to be able to look at Ewan. He took after his father, but he had his mother’s eyes — they must be. Dave’s eyes were large and soulful; Ewan’s were grey, or green, if the sun caught in them, and they didn’t quite have the right shape.

Ewan beamed in pride, but after a couple of heartbeats he became serious again. “So you go around chasing aliens? And you are _the_ Rose Tyler?”

“Yes. But chasing aliens is a lot more boring than you’d think. And it doesn’t happen very often,” she explained.

Ewan nodded thoughtfully. “So… this is extra special?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, although I wish it weren’t.”

“What if we don’t find anything?” Ewan asked.

“We’ll find somewhere else to look. But why don’t we just wait and see, hmm?” Rose said.

“I think we’ll find something,” Mickey chimed in.

“Yeah?” Ewan perked up a little.

“Yeah. A space ship crash-landed in the park a few weeks ago. Maybe it’s got to do with that,” he said.

Rose looked at her friend. She’d completely forgotten about the Sheeryan trader ship. And, for that matter, Lucy’s involvement. She’d have to tell Dave about it, and soon, although that prospect terrified her. There was no telling how much damage she had already done by not telling him about Torchwood. Apparently, he was one of those people who didn’t put too much faith in the Institute. Had he been affected by one of the more disastrous events?

“Do you really think so?” Rose asked. If it was true, things were going to be very bad. And complicated. Part of the Sheeryan cargo had been medical supplies and samples. What if they had overlooked some of them — only one tiny container was enough — and that was what caused Paul’s illness? If that was the case… God help them.

“Yeah,” Mickey said in exactly that tone of voice that made it clear that it was the obvious answer.

“Is that… good?” Ewan asked.

“It is a starting point,” Rose said. “The Sheeryan are friends.” They also lived several days’ worth of travel away. If something turned up at the site they’d have to contact the Sheeryans immediately just in case Paul’s condition deteriorated further.

“Do they… look like us? Or are they little green men?”

“Blue, more like,” Mickey replied, looking at Ewan in the back mirror. “With two pairs of arms.”

“Really?” Ewan asked, perking up even more.

“In their real form, yes. But most of the time they wear a Shimmer. It tricks us into thinking they look human,” Mickey explained, delighting in giving this detail away to the boy. But Rose also knew that it was his way of keeping up the mystery in which Torchwood liked to shroud itself. It was going to be difficult to get Ewan and Evie to sign the Official Secrets Act — and stick to the secrecy. Rose slumped back into her seat with a sigh.

“And they speak English?”

“They use little computers that translate what they say. It’s like a Shimmer for language,” Mickey explained patiently. If this weren’t so serious Rose would have said Mickey was having fun.

“And they’d be able to help Paul?” Ewan asked sombrely.

“Yes.”

Rose hated Mickey for that lie. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but so far they knew nothing about Paul’s condition, so how could he promise this little boy that his big brother was going to be all right? Where did Mickey take that kind of faith from? She suddenly understood Dave’s situation a lot better; how hard it must be for him to stay confident for his children when the experts were helpless. The idea of handing over the case to Mickey presented itself again, and this time it seemed the right decision, no matter what Dave said.

Dave clearly needed her support — he was by himself in this, with three children each demanding his comfort and strength. Four, if you counted Lucy. If, indeed, her Lucy was his Lucy — but she had little doubt now that Lucy was Dave’s stepdaughter.

“I shouldn’t have put him in the sticks,” Ewan said just as they pulled up at the kerb outside the park.

“What?” Rose asked.

“We were playing football, and Paul is bad, so I used him as the goalie, and… he tried so hard and he fell. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey, Ewan,” she said, turning back to him. “It’s not your fault, right? We don’t even know if it happened here, or if it was something else. You were playing, and it was an accident.”

Ewan was studying his hands when he mumbled his assent. He probably only did it so she would leave him alone. She wondered what he was like in normal circumstances. Now he seemed torn between his excitement and his worry and guilt. It was a bit much to ask of anyone, let alone a nine-year old.

They quickly made their way to the place in the park where Ewan and Paul had played football, and when Rose recognised it as the spot where the Sheeryan had crash-landed her heart sank. Ewan showed them the exact spot he had chosen for the goal, marked by a pair of trees that stood about as far apart as the goalposts did.

“And where did he fall?” Mickey asked.

“He fell several times,” Ewan said, “but never outside the sticks.”

“Right,” Rose said, drawing a deep breath. They started to search the seven metres between the trees; it was a huge distance to cover, Rose found, particularly for a boy guarding the goal. She wondered if there weren’t rules for younger players that made the pitch smaller.

“Rose? I think I’ve got something,” Mickey said after a while. They had started their search on the opposite ends of the goal, working towards the centre; Mickey had covered about half of his stretch.

She hurried to him, pushing back the shrubbery so she could see what Mickey had found. Ewan joined them, telling them excitedly that that was the spot where Paul had hurt himself. Mickey pointed at the shattered shell of a Sheeryan test tube — it looked like a golf ball-sized bird’s egg, the shell mottled in brown and off-white, but marked by a code printed on it in black ink. Unfortunately, it also seemed about as fragile as an egg. Why the Sheeryan would use something like this for dangerous substances was beyond her.

“He fell on it,” Ewan said, his memory coming back thanks to the shards on the ground. “We thought it’s an egg, but the edges of the shards are very sharp. Some clear stuff came out.”

“What kind of stuff?” Rose asked, watching Mickey as he took a photo of the test globe before he collected all the pieces and put them into the container he had brought.

“Like… shower gel, only clear. He wiped his hand on a tissue,” Ewan said. If it’d been Tony, Rose mused, he’d have wiped his hand on his jeans. Of course, Paul was a lot older than Tony, still she got the feeling that Paul was unusually conscientious for his age. Had he always been like this, or had his mother’s death changed him?

“Is this something dangerous?” Ewan asked, his eyes on the airtight container.

“We don’t know,” Mickey said with a sigh. Clearly, this was Torchwood’s fault — they had overlooked this. “We’ll have to send someone and sweep the area,” he said, rising from his crouching position.

Rose touched her ear piece to call the recovery team who had been in charge of the Sheeryan ship all those weeks ago.

“And now?” Ewan asked.

“Now we’ll go back and see how we can help your brother,” Mickey said. “You did a great job, Ewan.”

Ewan looked sceptical, and more than eager to go back to the Priory. Rose, however, decided to pick up coffee and pastries at the Camelot for everyone first. She felt in need of both sugar and caffeine, and she bought three cups of hot chocolate for the kids — Francesca’s was the best in the world.

By the time they reached Muirbank, however, and descended into the vaults of the Priory, all thoughts of pastries and hot drinks were forgotten. Paul had suffered a seizure, and as a result he had gotten dizzy and thrown up all over Dominic.

-:-

Dave had pressed his lips into a thin line when he saw Rose and Ewan appear outside the sliding glass door. Ewan was holding a paper tray with several cups, but his smile faded when he saw his father’s expression. Evie lay curled around her doll on the sofa. She wouldn’t let Dave touch her, but neither did she want to leave the room. His yelling had scared her, and now Ewan seemed reluctant to enter the room.

Rose slid open the door. “Dominic told me what happened,” she said softly. “How are you holding up?” She guided Ewan into the room with her hand on his shoulder.

Dave shrugged. The smell of coffee and hot chocolate spread in the room, and he suddenly felt very tired and in need of the hot drink. At the same time, he felt loathe to leave Paul’s side. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Rose here.

“I’d better join the others,” Rose said. “Things to discuss.”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Is that hot chocolate?” Evie asked. She had pushed herself up into a sitting position and adjusted her glasses.

“Yes, I thought you’d like some,” Rose said. “My Mum… well, it’s what I had when I felt bad as a kid.”

“It’s my favourite too!” Evie said enthusiastically.

Dave frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked the fact that his children had taken an instant liking to Rose. It would have made him very happy only yesterday, but now… things had changed. Or had they?

“Thank you.” He needed to be careful for the bairns’ sake. He’d find a quiet moment to talk to Rose later. Evie took the bag of pastries that Rose was holding, and then Rose was gone, pulling the door to behind her.

“Is that hot chocolate?” Paul piped up.

“Would you like some?” Dave asked, helping his son to sit up. His glance fell on the heart monitor mounted on the wall; the curve flashed silently, and there were no wires attached to Paul. Instead, Dominic had stuck a transmitting device to his shoulder that took all the necessary readings without encumbering the patient. It was one of the things why Dave was grateful for being in a facility with advanced technology.

“Can I?” Paul asked, mindful of his being sick earlier.

“If you feel like it,” Dave said.

Right then the door slid open again and Dominic peeked in; he had changed into blue surgical scrubs. “All right?” he asked.

“Can I have some hot chocolate?” Paul asked.

“Sure. I’ll be back in a while. We need to discuss what Rose and Mickey found in the park,” Dominic said.

“Should I…?” Dave asked, torn between wanting to know what was going on and staying with his children.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything when we’re done,” the doctor told him. Then he was gone.

“What happened at the park?” Dave asked, carefully plucking the cups from the tray and giving them to the kids. When he sipped his coffee it was just the right temperature. It was gone by the time Ewan had finished telling them about his outing with Rose and Mickey.

“So this is about aliens?” Dave asked.

Ewan shrugged. “They’re called Sheeryan.”

“Dad?” Paul asked, thoughtfully rolling his paper cup between his hands.

“Aye?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For… this. For causing you such sorrow.”

“It’s not your fault. And neither is it yours,” Dave pointed out to Ewan. “If it’s anyone’s it’s Torchwood’s. And they’re going to fix it.” From where he derived his confidence, he had no idea. He supposed it was part and parcel of being a father. He needed to turn his growing anger into something positive; just why he turned it into trusting the Shadowy Organisation with Blood and Tears on Their Hands was beyond him. And then there was Rose.

He should have guessed she was with Torchwood. It explained the explosion, her swift recovery, her past — he supposed that travelling in space and time wasn’t something that grounded you firmly on Earth, that it was somehow addictive. Also, her telepathic abilities would come in handy, as would her languages. The fact that she had been in love with an alien.

He took off the lid and crumpled his cup. Where did that leave him, a widowed photographer with a handful of children?

“Dad?”

“Yes, Evie?”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

-:-

Dave closed the door to his room, where Ewan and Evie lay sprawled on his bed, much like they had the night Rita had died — only now Lucy and Paul were missing. He padded down the hall to the lounge that all the residents of the guest wing could use. It was a nice room, but it lacked the warmth of people actually living there.

Rose was sitting on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her. There was a bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of her, as well as two glasses.

“This isn’t a date, Rose,” he said, standing by the arm of the sofa, digging his toes into the smooth wooden floor.

“I thought you’d like some to unwind,” she said.

“I’d rather… oh well,” he said, slumping onto the sofa, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It was long past midnight, and the children were finally asleep. He’d left Lottie with Paul, in case he woke. It was the first chance he’d had all evening to talk to Rose about what they had found in the park.

Rose smiled gently and poured each of them some of the rich red wine. It sparkled in the room’s gorgeous light. She looked beautiful as well, the warmth of the light bathing her in the sunset-like glow. If it was a psychological trick to calm the room’s occupants, it worked.

“I’ve handed over the case to Mickey,” she said after they had sipped their drinks.

“What?”

“I’m too close to you, I couldn’t…”

“You’re giving over responsibility to your colleague? Isn’t this your mess to clean up?” he asked, the anger that had been bubbling inside him all night finally erupting.

Rose looked at him aghast. Then her expression hardened. “The recovery of the Sheeryan ship was Mickey’s case, so technically, this is still his case,” she explained calmly.

“So he decides what happens when… to Paul?” Dave asked, his voice strained. He wanted to yell at her, to scream and to cry. What had he done to deserve all this?

“No. Dominic decides. He’s the doctor.”

“What is it with you and doctors, hmm?” he asked, staring at the wine in his glass.

Rose took a deep breath. “I trust him.”

“That’s easy. _You_ trusting him with _my_ son’s life!”

“Exactly! That’s how much I trust him! He put me back together again after you’d saved me,” Rose pointed out, her voice rising. She put her glass onto the table with an audible clink. “He’s the best for the job. Even Canary Wharf doesn’t have better doctors.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better it’s a pretty lame attempt,” Dave said. His anger was a tight little ball in his throat, making it difficult to breathe and speak, much less think.

“Well, it’s all I can offer.” They were quiet for a while. “We have contacted the Sheeryan regarding the test globe we found in the park. It contains an agent that works as an inoculation for their people, but would make humans sick. That’s what happened to Paul. The fact that his hand healed so quickly is a positive side effect.”

“Is it contagious?” Dave managed to ask. He needed to stay calm. Rose was honest and trying to help. And he needed her help; she was the only one who could help him.

“That’s the good news. It isn’t, not in humans.”

“Is it... I mean... will he recover?” It was hard to get the words past the lump in his throat.

“We can’t say,” Rose said, meeting his eyes. “It’s never happened before.”

Dave lowered his head. He didn’t want to dwell on the prospects too long – if the Sheeryan couldn’t help... How could they be so sure then that it wasn’t contagious? He was so tired. He propped his elbows on his knees and closed his eyes. “What happens now?”

“We wait for the Sheeryan medics to arrive. In the meantime all Dominic can do is treat the symptoms,” she explained. “I know it’s not much, but we are in contact with Aquiouk all the time. We can ask him anything.”

“How long until he arrives?” Dave asked. He tried to focus on the practicalities for as long as he found it difficult to process the idea that an alien was travelling in his space ship to Earth to help his sick son. That an alien was actually willing to help. That Rose talked to him. “It is a… he?”

Rose smiled. “Yes. He’ll be here by Sunday night. It’s a long journey.”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, picking up his glass of wine.

“I understand.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I’d still like to be there for you. Now that I’m not in charge any more I’d love to help by being there for you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The children…”

“…need you strong. Who’s looking after you, hmm? I… I’d hoped that it could be me. I love you, Dave.”

Dave looked at her. He appreciated the offer, but he was so confused and angry. He just didn’t know what to make of her any more. She seemed a completely different person, one who hunted aliens for a living. She had defeated the Cybermen, for heaven’s sake! She was Rose Tyler, Vitex Heiress, Time Traveller and Protector of the Earth. He was David Michael Tiler, photographer and father of five. Their worlds couldn’t be any more different.

“I… Thank you, Rose.” He stood. “I’d better check on Lottie and Paul now. Good night.”

“Good night, Dave,” Rose said softly.

Then he left.


	32. Chapter 32

Tears threatened to fall as Rose stared into her wine glass. Dave’s response to her declaration of love had spoken volumes, and she had a hard time being not being hurt by it. He was distraught and worried about Paul; he had the other two to care for. She could also understand his anger at Torchwood’s oversight because she wasn’t any less angry. This was the kind of mistake that mustn’t happen. She hadn’t lied to him when she’d said that technically, it was still Mickey’s case, but Dave’s mistrust ran deep, and she wondered why. Mickey or Jake would have brought it to her attention if he had been involved in an earlier case.

What hurt most, however, was his rejection of her love and her support. He had made it quite clear that he didn’t want her here although it was obvious that he needed her. All three of his children needed him and it was up to him to decide who got his full attention at any given moment. If Rita had still been alive they’d at least would have been able to divide their time up between them. Rose knew that this was a time when the kids wanted their mother most, no matter how close they were to their father. Some things only a mother could fix.

She couldn’t — and wouldn’t want to — be a substitute for Rita. It would be presumptuous of her that she would be able to even try, even if she and the children had known each other for a long time. Rose knew that it was far too soon for the kids to accept their father having a new partner. The kids weren’t ready yet to contemplate another woman winning their father’s heart, no matter how often they might have seen it happen in other families. Rose knew only too well how hard it was to accept someone new — it had taken her quite a while to get used to the idea that it wasn’t just her Mum and her, that Jackie might fall in love. True, Rose had been a baby when her father died, but Jackie had kept him alive for her in so many ways that someone else in her mother’s heart seemed inconceivable. And then she’d fallen in love with Pete Tyler from this universe.

Rose drained her glass and went to her room in the staff suite. It was late and she’d had too much to drink. She didn’t feel like going back home, to the bed she had shared with Dave. The handprints on the wall would be too painful to look at. Since this wasn’t her case she’d have the weekend off, but she knew that she’d spend it at Torchwood anyway.

Sleep, however, wouldn’t come when she lay in her bed, the orange glow from the lights on the other side of the river filtering into her room through the gap in the drapes. She tossed and turned, trying to shut out images of Dave as he was angry and distraught and… sometimes he had that expression in his eyes, of confusion and want.

Rose sat up with a start as the grey of the early morning bled into the orange of the city night. It had suddenly occurred to her how confused he must be by her revelation. He had known her simply as Rose, as Rose Tyler the Vitex Heiress, and as Rose of the National Heritage Trust. How would she feel if he told her that he worked for some relatively secret organisation? It wasn’t only about him, it was also about his children, and it was only natural that he’d want to protect them — if he couldn’t be sure who she was, then how could he possibly introduce her to the children?

The alarm clock read shortly past four as she fell back into the pillows. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept — if she’d slept at all. The images and thoughts had been replaying themselves in her mind’s eye over and over again. She decided that she’d drive herself mad trying to get to sleep, so she gave up and took a cool shower to wake herself up.

When she checked on the children she found Lottie curled around them. She spread a spare blanket over her. Dave must have sent her to bed after he’d left. He probably was in the infirmary keeping watch by Paul’s bedside. She could do with a cup of coffee, and she thought he could too. Rose went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, figuring that Frankie or Dominic — she had failed to ask who had the night shift – could as well. It occurred to her that they needed to hire more medical staff; it wouldn’t do to have just one nurse and one doctor on duty in cases like this.

She bit her lip. Paul wasn’t a case.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t see Paul as a case. He was Dave’s son, and Rose knew how terrified Dave was of losing another family member. Would it be a good idea then, she wondered as she filled three mugs with coffee, to call Lucy and have her brought here? She remembered Dave telling her that their relationship was strained and that she had left Hillingdon Drive angry. Rose knew that part of it was her fault as well because she had encouraged Lucy to find out about life with her birth father — and in that way she had taken one of his children.

Bringing her here might be a good idea or a bad one; there was no telling. Considering the way things were between them at the moment she decided it would probably be better not to call Lucy. Dave didn’t know that Lucy was already involved in the case… and this was certainly not the best way to tell him. He’d feel betrayed, not only by Lucy, but also by her. It might very well be the end of their relationship. And that was an idea that Rose couldn’t bear contemplating.

-:-

“Dad.”

Paul’s soft voice roused him from his slumber. Dave had curled up on the sofa after he’d nodded off sitting by Paul’s bedside several times, giving himself a crick in the neck. The sofa was marginally more comfortable, but it hadn’t been too good for his neck and shoulder muscles either. He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Aye? How are ye feeling?”

“Not so good. I need to go to the loo,” Paul said. “But I…”

Dave stood and crossed the distance between them in a few strides. “Here, I’ll help you.” Dave caught him before he hit the floor when his legs gave out under him as he tried to get up off the bed. Paul seemed to be more than a little wobbly. “Are you sure you can manage?”

Paul wrapped his arm around his waist for support; it was obvious how hard he was trying to force his legs to do his bidding. “Just a wee bit weak from everything,” Paul reassured him, putting on a brave face like he had at Rita’s funeral.

Dave wanted to tell him no, that he needn’t be strong now, but he remembered how terrible Paul already felt about being ill and he decided to let the matter drop.

They had just made it to the small bathroom when Paul fell to his knees and threw up into the toilet. Dave tried to sooth him, rubbing his back and wetting a flannel for him to cool his ashen face when he was done throwing up. Paul slumped against the wall as he ran the flannel over his face. His eyes were watering and he ran the flannel over his face. “It hurts,” he whispered, rubbing his sternum.

“I know, Paul. Here rinse your mouth,” he said, passing him a glass of water.

“It tastes vile. I’d really like to brush my teeth.”

Dave nodded and pulled him to his feet so he could brush his teeth. Again, he noticed how shaky his son’s legs were, but he chalked it up to what had just happened. Nevertheless, he stayed propped against the door frame to keep an eye on him. “You know, when this is over, I’d like to take you all on a trip round Scotland. We could go and see granddad too,” he said eventually. He hadn’t broached the subject of his working holiday to the kids yet.

“Can Lucy come too?” Paul asked through the white froth of toothpaste.

“Sure, if she wants to,” Dave said more cheerfully than he felt. She had mentioned something about a trip to Venice with the Quinlans as she’d applied for a passport. It had been in the post that morning… well, the morning before. It was half past four already.

“Dad?”

“Aye?”

“I can’t… I can’t,” Paul stammered before dropping his toothbrush into the basin.

“What?” Dave pushed himself away from the door, ready to jump in. Paul’s legs buckled and gave way beneath him, and he crumpled to the tiled floor, limbs flailing as another convulsion overpowered his body. All Dave could do was pull him out of the small space to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself.

“I’ll get help,” Rose said from the doorway. When had she arrived?

“Quick!” he urged her, shoving his hand beneath his son’s head to prevent injury.

Again, all he could do was watch as Paul’s body tensed and trembled. He felt his whole body turn into ice as he remembered Rose’s words. They had no idea if Paul was going to be all right, or if the Sheeryan would arrive in time to help him.

“Can you keep holding him?” Dominic asked as he dropped to his knees beside them. He took the syringe Frankie was passing him and managed to grab Paul’s arm to inject it. Paul’s body went almost instantly still and his head landed heavily on his hand. Dave exhaled slowly but didn’t allow himself to relax.

“You can put him back to bed now. If you want,” Dominic added, sitting back on his heels, returning the empty syringe to Frankie.

“Why isn’t he coming to?” Dave asked, looking from Dominic to Paul, who was very still and very pale.

“Let’s get him back to bed first, shall we?” Dominic said, standing.

Somehow Dave managed to pick Paul up and carefully lay him down in his bed, which Frankie had quickly straightened out a bit. He glanced anxiously at the monitor above the bed. Paul’s heartbeat was strong and regular, but he didn’t regain consciousness.

“Why was he out of bed?” Dominic, putting on his stethoscope.

“He said he didn’t feel too good so I took him to the bathroom. He vomited. He seemed very shaky, weak,” Dave said, running his hand through his hair and stepping aside for Frankie to wipe Paul’s mouth. It was still white with the toothpaste. “It’s toothpaste,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, it is,” Frankie said softly.

“We’ll need to examine him. Why don’t you get a breath of fresh air? Rose has made some coffee. It’ll do you good,” Dominic suggested kindly.

“I…” He didn’t want to leave Paul. He was still passed out.

“Dave,” Rose said from the door.

He ran his hand through his hair again and realised that he wouldn’t be of any help here. He might as well get some fresh air and some coffee. “You really can’t do anything at the moment. We’ve got him, yeah?” Frankie said.

He nodded and went with Rose, glad for the mug she gave him. At least it was something he could hold on to. He followed her silently until they were in the small garden in the courtyard, where she sat on a silvery wooden bench. The sun was just beginning to rise, trying to force its way through the dark clouds. The chill of the early morning brought him back to his senses and he sat down to take a sip of his coffee. It was perfect.

“That was awful. I couldn’t do it,” Rose said.

“I doubt that,” Dave replied, pursing his lips. “I think that… never mind. You’d be very good at this. I mean, you must have seen so many things…”

Rose’s expression darkened a little as memories flitted across her face like some of the clouds above. She stared at the mug she was holding in her hands. “Yeah, but nothing was as bad as this.”

Dave sighed. “Our lives are so very different. I don’t… I find it difficult to imagine you with the children. On a daily basis, packing lunch boxes and getting rid of nits, checking their homework. That kind of thing.”

“I’m an only child. I’d have no idea,” Rose admitted softly. “Mum had to work a lot. Your children are really lucky.”

“They’ve lost their mother. And now this…” He tightened his grip around the mug. “God, I feel so helpless.”

“Then why won’t you let me help you? Just you and me,” Rose asked. “The kids wouldn’t need to know.”

“You’re… an alien.”

She didn’t reply at once. “You’ve slept with me. You’ve poured your heart out to me. But you won’t let me near your children?”

He swirled the dregs of his coffee.

“I am not alien. I am human. With extras, granted, but I’m just a girl underneath it all,” she said. “The Rose you’ve seen Wednesdays and Sundays, that’s the real me. Everything else is just a role I play, a mask I slip on. When I’m with you I feel like myself.”

“That’s what I find so difficult to understand. How many roles do you play?”

“You’ve seen them all. And I love Just Rose best. When I’m with you. And I want you. I know you come with kids and a life, and I wouldn’t want you without it. You aren’t just a boy toy for me, someone who reminds me of someone I’ve lost,” she explained.

“Oh, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” he snapped.

“Dave!”

“You aren’t just an adventure either, you know. I love you, Rose, I do, more than… but I’m not sure I can trust you. It’s probably just me, feeling intimidated…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and for a few brief moments neither of them spoke as if they’d just agreed on a truce in their war of words. He’d never had a fight like this before; compared to the rows he’d had with Michelle, this was very civil, respectful even. Dave sighed and opened his mouth to finish the sentence when Rose said, “Listen to yourself.”

He looked up at her. “What?” Had she been in his head again?

“You have no idea, do you?” she asked.

“Apparently not, no,” he said warily. It was hard to keep the cynicism out of his voice.

“You saved my life. You manage a family and your job. Now I’ve turned up and you make time for me as well, making me feel as if I’m the most important woman in the universe. You sit up with your sick children and fight for them… and that is why I love you so much,” Rose said. “And besides you’re a brilliant artist and the kindest, sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

He was baffled.

“It breaks my heart to see you take this on all by yourself. I can see you falling apart bit by bit. And I can’t stand by and do nothing,” Rose said. She turned her empty mug in her fingers.

“I can’t do that to the bairns. They all want their mother right now, and I’m supposed to turn around and tell them I’ve got, they’ve got, you instead?”

Rose sighed, shaking her head. “Of course not. But promise me that when you need comforting… I’ll be there for you, yeah?”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning towards her for a kiss. It was only a chaste peck on the lips, because he didn’t feel ready for anything more right then. “Do you mind if I call Sarah and Anna? They’re Rita’s best friend and her sister. They know the kids quite well and I think their presence would comfort them. Unless, of course, that doesn’t go well with Torchwood policy.”

Rose smiled, taking his hand. “No, that’s okay. Just give me their names and I’ll let Annie know,” she said, her tone a little wistful.

“Just give me some time, aye?”

“Yeah,” she said, plucking the mug from his fingers before she stood to go back inside.

-:-

Paul had lost the use of his legs. Dominic didn’t know If it was because of the seizures or a side effect of the alien substance itself. Neither could he say if the paralysis would wear off eventually — “If it’s due to the seizures, yes. But I cannot be sure about the alien stuff.”

His son had regained consciousness while he’d been outside with Rose. Part of him wished he hadn’t left, but the bigger part of him was glad he had. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Rose’s declaration of love had reassured him a lot, even if it hadn’t been able to assuage his distrust of Torchwood. At least he felt comfortable enough now to trust this new generation of Torchwood agents. The Institute had changed a lot since the Battle at Canary Wharf, and the Glasgow branch was, if he wasn’t entirely mistaken, new. Also, he found it hard not to trust Rose and her team.

Paul and he decided not to tell Evie and Ewan about his legs. Paul had asked him not to — he didn’t want to upset his younger siblings, but Ewan in particular who, he had noticed, blamed himself for the accident.

“But it was just that,” Dave said, “an accident.” And when he said that he included Torchwood as well. They had overlooked the test globe; mistakes like this happened, particular if the test globe in question looked like a bird’s egg. Dominic had explained to him that the test globe had turned brittle in the sun, which was why it had broken when Paul had fallen on it. Normally, the material the globes are made of was very strong — the Sheeryan would be very grateful to know that. Dave had only nodded. It wouldn’t do Paul any good, would it?


	33. Chapter 33

Jake was playing football with Ewan when Rose returned from the supermarket. They had set up a goal she had no idea Torchwood owned, and Ewan was clearly enjoying chasing Jake every which way as he tried to catch as many of the boy’s shots as possible. Rose couldn’t help thinking that Ewan was quite good and that it was little wonder that Paul had had such a hard time keeping up. Much to Jake’s dismay, Rose waved him off when he offered to help her with the groceries.

She had decided to make the best of the situation, and the kitchen in the guest quarters, and cook for everyone so they didn’t have to rely on take-away from Tony’s too much. Their food was great, but they had dined at the restaurant several times in the past week alone and she wanted to eat something different for a change. Also, she was sure that the children in particular would appreciate some comfort food.

“What’re ye doing!” Ewan protested as the ball sailed past a motionless Jake. He stood in the goal, as a car pulled into the gravel drive and parked next to Rose’s small Italian import. Rose lifted a crate of soft drinks out of the boot of her car and slammed the door shut.

“We’ve got a visitor,” Jake pointed out, nodding in the direction of Rose and the woman who was climbing out of the car.

Ewan whirled around, ever curious, and whooped when he recognised the newcomer. “Sarah!” Jake and footie practice forgotten, he launched himself at the blonde woman and threw himself into her arms. “Sarah.” He buried his face in her shoulder and clung tightly to her. _So this is Rita’s best friend_ , Rose thought, locking her car. Jake sidled over to them and grabbed two of the paper bags of groceries.

“Hey, Rooney junior,” Sarah said, dropping a kiss on top of Ewan’s head. She was taller than Rose, and very curvy. She looked up, rubbing Ewan’s back; he still wouldn’t let go of her, and Rose’s heart clenched as she realised how much the boy needed comforting. It was obvious that neither she nor Mickey had been able to cheer him up the previous day. Also, It was also clear that he felt so responsible that he didn’t feel like he could go to his father for comfort.

Sarah’s eyes widened briefly as her gaze met Rose’s, the usual reaction Rose got when people recognised her. To her relief, however, Sarah seemed one of those people who overcame their surprise quickly and didn’t make much fuss about meeting a famous person. Sarah loosened her grip around her friend’s son and closed the distance between them.

“I’m Sarah Manion, a friend of Dave’s and Rita’s,” she said, taking Rose’s hand.

“Rose Tyler. It’s so good to have you here, Ms Manion. Dave told us you’d want to be here,” Rose said, shaking her hand.

“Please, it’s Sarah. How is everyone?” she asked, drawing Ewan towards her with an arm around his shoulders as he sought her closeness.

Rose smiled, looking pointedly at Ewan. “They’re doing remarkably well most of the time. Why don’t you come inside?”

“Can I come?” Ewan asked.

“Of course you can,” Rose said. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Ewan wanted to be punished for putting his brother in the sticks. Hopefully, Sarah would be able to manage what everyone else so far — including Dave — had been unable to do: convince Ewan that it had been an accident.

Sarah shot her an meaningful gaze that basically confirmed her thoughts. “I’d like to talk to you later, if that’s okay,” she said in the lift, still one arm around Ewan.

“Sure,” Rose said. The way Sarah had asked suggested that she knew about her and Dave. For a moment Rose was indignant, the though crossing her mind that Dave had been looking for support in standing up to Torchwood, but then she dismissed the feeling as ridiculous. Of course he’d have told his friend about her; she had, after all, wasted no time introducing him to the Torchwood crowd. Which in hindsight seemed helpful because he knew he could trust them. If only she knew what it was about his deep-rooted distrust in Torchwood.

When Rose slid the door to Paul’s room open, the boy was bent over a kidney dish, pressing tissues to his nose. The dish was filled with more tissues, all of them bloodstained. Dave was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding the dish and rubbing Paul’s back soothingly. Rose wondered if she’d ever enter the room when there was not some crisis. A nosebleed wasn’t what she generally called a crisis, but this was different. Once more she wished the Sheeryan had faster ships. If she had a TARDIS none of this would be a problem — although some other problem would come up instead.

“Sarah!” Dave said, his expression lighting up as he saw his friend.

“Hello, Dave. Hi, Paul.”

Paul looked up briefly, but he ducked his head at once when Dave reminded him to keep it down. “It’s just a nosebleed,” Dave said, trying to sound cheerful, but he didn’t fool Rose, and neither did he Sarah. There were just too many tissues in the dish, and quite a lot of them were bright red.

“Does Dominic know?” Rose asked, watching as Sarah relieved Dave of his duties and cuddled Paul against her. Ewan, she noticed, looked on in horror. Rose placed her hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was compassion rather than reassurance. Ewan looked at her briefly, then went to get a pair of gloves for Sarah.

“Aye,” Dave said, about to run his hand through his hair when he remembered he was still wearing a pair of purple latex gloves. He tugged them off with an impatient gesture, but then the moment had passed and he dropped his hand by his side.

“I’ll be in my office,” Rose said, feeling supremely helpless. Apart from taking care of Paul — which was mainly Dominic’s job — there was little to be done but await Aquiouk’s arrival. She’d never felt more frustrated in her life.

-:-

Rose didn’t go straight to her office, she went to the kitchen to put away the groceries first. The tub of ice-cream she’d bought had started to go soft and it needed to go into the freezer, while other things belonged in the fridge. She met Sarah in the corridor outside her office; she was about to go back to the infirmary after she’d found Rose’s office empty.

“Do you have a minute?” Sarah asked.

“Sure,” Rose said, smiling and gesturing for her to precede her inside. They sat on the sofa after Rose had made some tea. They had made small talk, Sarah complimenting her on the premises and her office.

“Thank you for having me,” Sarah said eventually. “When I heard Torchwood Institute I wasn’t sure what to think.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you hear that a lot.”

Rose smiled, stirring her tea. “As a matter of fact, we do, but we’re different now. I suppose it’ll take some time to change people’s perception though. I’m afraid we’ll have to sort out some paperwork for you later.”

“So, what’s wrong with Paul? I don’t want to distract the doctor, and Dave needs a break.”

Rose jumped a little when she referred to Dominic that way; she really needed to put that behind her. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Also, you get the English version,” Rose added. They laughed briefly, the tension between them easing a bit. Rose gave Sarah the full picture, not leaving out the fact that, for the time being, Paul was paralysed from the waist down.

Sarah’s dark eyes started to water at that, and her hand went to her mouth. “And to think that he only seemed a little under the weather Thursday night. We thought nothing of it… and now this.”

“Please believe me when I tell you that there was no way you could have known. It was a terrible accident, and we’re doing everything to help Paul.”

“It just seems so unfair. It’s not as if they haven’t been through enough the past few months. Dave is terrified of losing him too.”

Rose put down her mug on the coffee table. “I know.”

Sarah looked at her. “This might sound a bit weird but I really need to tell you this. Dave loves with all that he is when he loves someone.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Rose said, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“That makes him vulnerable. No matter how much Rita loved him, she… sometimes took his patience and mild-mannered ways for granted and did some things to him…” Her voice trailed off and Rose wondered what she was trying to tell her. Obviously, Sarah decided that it was too much too soon and she stopped herself. “You’re a very strong person, Rose.”

Was Sarah threatening her? So much for easing the tension. But Rose could understand Sarah. Right now, Dave was at his most vulnerable, and she was being a true friend and very protective of him. Enough that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hold back in front of a complete stranger. Rose wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful that Dave had a friend like her. Lioness was what came to mind, and Rose suppressed a smile.

“You think this is funny?” Sarah challenged.

“No. I don’t think that at all,” Rose said evenly. “I’m glad that Dave has you for a friend. I’m not sure I’m as strong as you think I am. But I know I love him, and I’d never consciously hurt him.” And then Rose realised what it was about. Although he’d never said it outright, it was clear that Michelle and Rita had walked all over him.

“I’m not going to take advantage of him,” Rose said bluntly. She held Sarah’s hard stare evenly. Eventually, the older woman seemed to be satisfied with what she saw and she nodded.

“I’ve been wondering,” Rose said, deciding to show her just how she serious was about Dave, to ask her about Lucy. “Do you have a photo of Lucy?”

Frowning, she dug for her phone in the pocket of her trousers and drew up the photo. When Rose looked at it, it was indeed Lucy smiling back at her, her arms around a petite woman whose Snow White colouring she’d inherited. So that was Rita. “Why are you asking?” Sarah asked, warily, taking back the device.

Rose took a deep breath and explained what had happened. “I’ve been wondering whether it would be a good idea to have her here.”

Sarah finished her tea, which must have been icy cold after so much time had passed, and stared intently at the bottom of her mug. “I think Ewan would really want her to be here. They’re very similar in many aspects. So similar, actually, that they are constantly quarrelling.”

“I’m not sure…” Rose began. She had no idea what sibling rivalry could be like. Tony and she were too far apart age-wise and they didn’t live with each other. Rather, they adored each other.

“They won’t admit it, of course. Dave, on the other hand, well, he blames himself for driving her away, and he’s terrified of losing her to her birth father,” Sarah explained. “So yes, I think we should have her here. She ought to know about Paul.”

-:-

After everyone had settled down somewhat, Dave sat in the comfortable chair he had pulled up beside Paul’s bed. They had the room to themselves, Ewan had gone back outside to play footie and Evie and Lottie out shopping for some clothes his youngest needed so badly. He wasn’t quite sure if he could trust Lottie with the task — her taste in clothes was a bit eccentric — but he had promised Evie the trip. It was bad enough he couldn’t go himself.

“You don’t need to be here all the time, Dad,” Paul said.

“I want to be here,” Dave said. Paul shouldn’t be so brave about this.

“Would you read to me?” Paul asked, gesturing with his hand at the book on his bedside table. It was the copy of Harry Potter Dave had snatched from Lucy’s shelf as he’d hurriedly packed a few things for his stay at the Institute. He’d meant to read it during his vigil, but he had been so exhausted that he’d fallen asleep in the chair.

“Sure,” he said, smiling. For the first time in what seemed a long time Dave felt his smile reach his eyes. He loved reading to his children, but lately he’d only read to Evie. He reached for the book and when he opened it, something slipped out. It was a page torn from a magazine and a business card. Bending to pick them up, he recognised the photos he had taken of Rose at the charity event all those weeks back. Lucy had loved the photo, commenting on how lost Rose looked in it. Looking at it now, he realised that she was right. At the time, he had only seen Rose as the beautiful, mysterious woman whose life he had saved and who had recovered from her injuries so very quickly. He’d had no idea that her photo had left that much of an impression on Lucy.

The business card was Rose’s, the Torchwood Institute version.

He stared at it, uncomprehending. How come one of her Torchwood Institute business cards was in Lucy’s book? He couldn’t remember Rose giving him her card, and if she had, wouldn’t it have made more sense to give him the Heritage Trust Fund one? Maybe, probably, she’d given him the business card by accident.

“Dad?”

He shook his stupor off. “It’s just something Lucy tucked inside the book.”

“Is she coming, Dad?” Paul asked. “I miss her.”

Dave’s heart constricted. He had been of two minds about calling Lucy, and he felt ashamed for it. The truth was he didn’t want her to feel obliged to come home because of her brother; it felt like emotional blackmail. Even as he listened to his thoughts he realised how silly that might sound, but, try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

“I’ll call her later, okay?”

Paul’s face lit up at that. Dave tucked the magazine clipping and the business card between pages at the back of the book and began to read, “ _Chapter One_ ,” halting briefly at the chapter title, “ _The Boy Who Lived._ ” What was he thinking? Of course Paul would live…

-:-

By the time Dave had reached the end of the second chapter Paul had fallen asleep. He still looked very pale, and Dave’s gaze travelled the length of the transparent tube feeding him fluids through the back of his hand. Paul had problems keeping even fluids down, and so Dominic had seen no way around putting in a drip line.

Dave had always assumed that space travel was fast, but then he remembered that Rose had travelled in a time machine. It would disappear in one spot and appear in the other, impossibly far away, within the blink of an eye. Apparently, the Sheeryan did not have that power. How far away was their home planet, anyway?

As a boy, he’d enjoyed watching the night sky with his father, who worked as an astronomer. He still did, as a matter of fact, up in the Highlands where the air was clear of pollution of any kind, any idea of retiring as far from his mind as the nearest star outside their system. Dave had often wondered what was out there, if there were other people living out there, on far away planets under different suns. But in the end he’d always admired the beauty of the night sky. Was Rose’s night sky any different from his? It was probably a good thing that the night sky over Glasgow was too bright and too dusty to be able to see anything but the brightest of stars. She must miss travelling among the stars terribly. Maybe, when this was over, he’d take her to his father’s observatory.

He retrieved the magazine clipping from between the pages to use them as a bookmark. Lucy’s words echoed in his mind again. _“She looks a bit lost, don’t you think?”_ In that picture she did. But usually, Rose was the most self-confident person he had ever met. She was comfortable in so many different roles and she had survived so many things — he didn’t dare ask what she’d seen on her journeys with the Doctor.

And there he’d gone again and thought of Rose, something which happened so quickly, so naturally now. She was right. He needed someone to comfort him, and he was more than happy to entrust himself to Rose. All he’d needed was a bit of time to get used to the idea of being with her, and to come to the decision that he didn’t care what others think. He’d still need to be careful around the bairns, but he knew now that being with Rose was the right thing to do. He smiled softly to himself, relief washing over him, leaving him refreshed and happier than he had felt in weeks.

Dave stood and bent to kiss his son’s forehead. _The Boy Who Lived_.

“Dave?” Dominic’s voice made him turn around. He hadn’t heard the soft sound of the sliding glass door as it slid open.

“He’s just fallen asleep,” Dave said. Hopefully, Paul wasn’t just napping. He needed to sleep after this restless, short night.

“There’s someone here for you,” Dominic said, having cast a cursory glance at his patient and the monitor above his bed.

“I know Sarah’s here,” Dave said. “We talked when she arrived.”

“It’s Lucy.”

Dave’s eyes went very wide. “Lucy.” He mouthed her name silently.

“Dad!” She hurried into the room, aware of her sleeping brother but apparently overjoyed at seeing him again. She threw herself into his arms. “Dad.”

He held her close to him, his body remembering her willowy frame as she hugged him tightly, her breath warm on his neck. She was taller than Rita by far, and he held her close, kissing her temple. “Lucy.”

He was so glad she was here, that he didn’t have to ring and ask her to come. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to tell her about Paul. Her heart was hammering against his chest and when he pushed her gently away he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lucy.”

“He’ll be fine. They’ll help him, the Sheeryan, they will.”

“Of course they will, sweetheart,” Dave said. “It’s so good to have you here.”

“I meant to surprise you, and Stuart dropped me off, but no one was there. Beattie told me,” Lucy sobbed.

“I’m sorry, love,” Dave said. “I meant to call you.”

“It’s not that, Dad. It’s all right. I didn’t… when I left I was so angry.”

“I know. Don’t worry about that.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Hate you?” His heart was in his mouth. He really should have told her he loved her a lot more often. What must she think of him? “I love you, Lucy.”

“Oh, Dad,” she sobbed, her dark eyes large and puffy. “I love you too.” She smiled and laughed. She hadn’t said those words in a very long time. He drew her into his arms again and held her close for a long time.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Rose standing just inside the room. He smiled at her. “Lucy,” he whispered.

She let go of him, sensing someone else’s presence in the room. Lucy turned around to see who had joined them.

“Rose!” She went — ran — towards Rose and hugged her like she would one of her friends from school. “Rose, you’ll help Paul, yes? Tell me you will.”

Rose seemed in equal parts surprised and delighted, and she treated Lucy in kind. She rubbed his daughter’s back soothingly, holding her close. “I will, Lucy.” Rose’s eyes found his and she implored him to stay and to wait.

Dave stared at them, unsure of what to do or say.

“Dad?” Paul had woken. “Lucy’s here.”

“Aye, she is,” he said, taking his son’s free hand to give it a squeeze. Just what the gesture meant, he had no idea.


	34. Chapter 34

Rose gave Lucy a squeeze before she loosened the hug and stepped away from her. She shouldn’t have gone down to the infirmary; she should have met Lucy in private so she could tell her that Dave didn’t know about their friendship. Rose hoped that Dave would listen to her when she explained everything to him. For the moment, he just looked stunned, his hand in Paul’s as he tried to understand what was going on. Eventually, he managed to compose himself. His eyes held hers steadily, communicating to her that they’d talk later.

He turned away from Rose to talk to Lucy. “How did you get here?”

“Stuart drove me,” Lucy said. “I’ve missed you.”

Dave’s eyes widened. “Where is he now?”

“In the office upstairs, with Mickey,” Lucy said.

“You know Mickey too?” Dave couldn’t help asking. He looked at the heart monitor, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Never mind that. I’d better go and talk to him. I’m sure you and Paul have a lot of catching up to do.”

He preceded her into the hall, and Rose slid the door shut behind her. “Please tell me she hasn’t been involved in one of your cases,” Dave said, looking at his children through the glass door. Lucy had made herself comfortable on the edge of Paul’s bed, and they were talking. Dave tore his gaze away from them to look at Rose.

She just held his gaze. “She had to sign the Official Secrets Act, Dave. I’m sorry.”

Dave let out a shuddering breath. “Tell me. Was it bad?”

“No. No, I don’t think so,” Rose said, surprised at how collected he was. She hadn’t known what to expect. Dave was one of the calmest men she’d ever met. She had never seen him really furious, and that unsettled her. She could deal with a version of the Oncoming Storm, but his serenity was something she had yet to get used to. “She was a witness when a Sheeryan trader ship crash landed.”

“The crash that is responsible for Paul’s illness?” Dave asked in alarm. “Isn’t she in danger too?”

“No. She didn’t go near them. She’s fine, Dave.”

His tense shoulders slumped a bit. “Am I right to assume that you’ve talked to her? Has she had any help after that experience?”

“Yes. That’s why she hugged me. She’s fine, Dave. The fact that the Sheeryan might be injured or stranded here worried her more than the fact that they were aliens. She’s a very clever girl.”

“That’s something you should tell Stuart, not me,” he said bitterly.

Rose sighed. “You showed her how to use her intelligence. Dave, look at me.”

When he did, she saw that he was close to tears. She took him by the arm and steered him away from the door. The children mustn’t see him like this. “You brought her up. She calls you Dad.” She stopped herself. That was something they could discuss later.

Dave sniffed and set his jaw. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Would you like me to come with you when you talk to Stuart? I’m sure he’ll have questions about the Institute.”

“Thank you, Rose.”

They went to the lift. Just as they’d stepped inside, Dave took her hand. “Rose?”

“Yes?” She bit back the endearment she wanted to use. She wasn’t sure if he’d like to hear it.

“I need you. I miss you.”

She pulled him into a hug. “And I you, my love.”

“We’ll talk about everything later, aye?”

“Aye,” Rose said, smiling. The lift dinged and the doors revealed the lobby. In the secluded waiting area, a man in a cashmere jumper and expensive leather shoes sat talking to Annie, balancing a cup and saucer in his palm. He stood when he noticed Rose and Dave approaching him. Rose wished she were dressed more smartly than she was. People like Stuart, successful business men and lawyers, still managed to intimidate her somewhat although she knew there was no reason to be.

“Mr Quinlan?” Rose said, slipping on her Vitex heiress mask. Her heels clicked on the flagstones and she drew herself up to her full height. “I’m Rose Tyler.” She held out her hand for him.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ah…”

“Rose,” she said sweetly.

“Rose. Lucy has been going on about you,” Stuart said. He was a handsome man with a warm, slightly gravelly voice that went very well with the grey streaking his dark hair. His dark eyes, however, were a force to be reckoned with — but they also told her many things that he’d rather not communicate. “Hello, Dave.”

“Stuart.” Dave seemed very wary all of a sudden; Rose felt him retreat to a safe place deep within himself. She wished she could take his hand to comfort him, but as far as Stuart was concerned Dave and Rose only knew each other professionally.

“Lucy wants to be there for the inquiry on Tuesday, and since she’s missed you I thought it would be a good idea to take her out of school on Monday as well. She won’t miss much; it’s the last week of school, and then we’ll be off to Venice. If her passport has arrived, that is,” Stuart said.

“Yes. Yes, it has,” Dave said softly.

“Why don’t we take this to my office?” Rose said. Once they had sat down on the two sofas in her office, Stuart continued.

“Sheridan, my colleague in charge of your case, tells me that everything’s ready for Tuesday.”

“Good,” Dave managed to say, and Rose added in the privacy of her mind that Rita was not a case.

“How is Paul?” Stuart asked. “We were quite shocked when we heard he was in hospital.”

“It’s… um…” Dave said, clearing his throat, “it’s a mild form of meningitis. The non-contagious version.”

“Ah, that’s… lucky.”

“I suppose it is.”

“It’s quite an unusual place to take him to,” Stuart commented, looking around rose’s office.

Before she could reply, Dave said, “Well, yes. Dr Henley, our family doctor, has moved here and set up a clinic. His research is partly sponsored by Vitex.”

Rose was surprised. She hadn’t expected Dave to recover so quickly and to deliver this half-truth so convincingly.

“Surprising then that he still works as a GP,” Stuart pointed out.

“He doesn’t want to lose touch with the real world,” Dave said. “Broadens the horizon too, apparently.”

“Ah, yes. You see, Dave, one of the reasons I’ve driven Lucy today is that I wanted to talk to you about something in person.” He looked pointedly at Rose.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Rose said, standing. Terror flashed in Dave’s eyes, but there was no way she could stay, however much she wanted to. “Things to do. It was a pleasure, Stuart.”

-:-

After Stuart had left, Dave sat in Rose’s office for a while, trying to understand what had just happened. But his mind felt as numb as his body did, and he could find no words that even began to describe the fear and the rage and the terror that had settled in the hollow around his heart, and they were growing. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

He needed to get out of here. Rose’s bright office suddenly seemed so small and airless. It wasn’t one of his empty rooms. The Priory had been one of his favourite abandoned buildings, and he wondered if the room that had offered him comfort and inspiration most was still there or if that had been taken from him as well.

Dave hurried outside without being seen. He went around the building to find the unlocked door he always used and slid into the dark corridor behind it. The smell was different here, less clean and lived-in. It was a bit damp and the stone offered the familiar coolness and the scent of churches that he associated with it. He pressed on through the corridor, not giving his eyes time to adjust to the dim light. He knew his way around here well enough, and soon he had found the remote chamber that he knew would offer him solace. Thankfully, it was untouched.

He sat heavily on the debris-littered floor by the gaping hole that once held a window and hugged his knees to his chest to stop the panic from spreading. He found it difficult to breathe so he let go, tipping his head back against the rough stone wall. A sharp pain coursed through him as the back of his head hit a pointy bit in the wall, bringing him back to his senses.

He hissed in pain. Several times he tried to gasp for air but his throat constricted every time, forming a heavy a lump that was painfully lodged at the base of his throat. He curled his fingers around the debris on the floor, brittle leaves and twigs. Pointy and sharp things that bit into the soft skin of his palms. Finally, he was able to take a deep breath and he let out a single sob.

-:-

“Dave.”

He looked up at her. The sadness in his eyes broke her heart. He seemed strangely composed, and that was when Rose realised that something inside him had broken and was irretrievably lost.

“May I sit with you?” she asked softly.

After what seemed like a short eternity he nodded, and as she sat down beside him he turned to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Although his body was trembling he wasn’t crying; there were no tears to wet the skin on her neck or soak her shirt. At a loss for what to do, she just held him and occasionally dropped a kiss onto his hair.

The cold of the stone floor was beginning to creep into her limbs and her bum fell asleep, but she didn’t move until Dave let go of her. He hadn’t shed a single tear. What made him so upset that he couldn’t even cry? Or had he cried himself out while she’d been searching the place for him?

She should have known he’d seek solace in the empty rooms of the Priory. This was an astoundingly beautiful room, and since it was so tucked away she understood that he knew the place very well. A man bent on getting away from it all wouldn’t find this small chamber; she almost hadn’t, if it hadn’t been for the late afternoon sun brightening the grey stone walls with a distorted rectangle, illuminating the alcove hiding the door to the chamber off the small, overgrown cloister. Creepers had wound their way into the room, and as Rose lifted her head to look around the room she saw that the vaulted ceiling was painted with leaves and all manner of fruit.

“I’m losing them, Rose,” Dave said, his voice hoarse; whether from sobs or suppressed tears she couldn’t tell. “My children. They’re slipping through my fingers like this.” He picked up a handful of crumbled leaves and they fell to the floor as he spread his fingers. “And there’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh, Dave,” she said.

“First it’s Tanya and Sam. Then Paul gets sick and now… Stuart wants to ask Lucy if she wants him to adopt her,” he said. He looked at her searchingly, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was nearly choking on the words that needed out next. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” she asked.

“That you suggested to Lucy that she go live with the Quinlans for a while?” His question came out in a dangerously measured tone.

Rose’s heart began to thump hard against her chest. Would she lose him if she told him the truth ? But if making him think that Stuart had lied would be worse, and certainly wouldn’t help matters. Stuart had no reason to lie about this. He had made it quite clear that Lucy talked a lot about her. “Yes.”

Dave withdrew, hugging his knees to his chest. His mouth was still a tense line and he suppressed a sob which made his whole body shake.

“When I gave Lucy that piece of advice I hadn’t realised that she was _your_ Lucy,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose she turned to me for advice because I was an outsider.”

Dave looked at her, and the fire in his eyes nearly burned her. She almost shrank back.

“She trusted me to be objective. I could feel how torn she was. She needs to find out who she is. She was always Rita’s daughter. And now that Rita is gone…”

“I didn’t want to find Stuart, but I couldn’t lie to her. I love her, Rose. I love her as if she were my own.” The trembling had moved to his voice.

“I know, Dave. I saw,” she said. “And I also saw that she feels the same for you. All of you, no matter how nasty Ewan has been to her. I don’t think you’re going to lose her.”

His lips relaxed and he drew in a shuddering breath. “You…”

“I suggested living with the Quinlans for a while so she could make an educated decision.”

Dave ran his fingers through his hair. She took his hand and wove her fingers through his.

“Adoption is a lengthy procedure, and by the time it goes through, Lucy will be old enough to make a decision,” Dave said. “At least he had the decency to tell me that.”

“I think that Stuart is a decent man. He offered help with the compensation, didn’t he?” Rose said, knowing that she was entering dangerous territory by playing devil’s advocate. “Don’t forget, Dave, that he is her father. Rita made decisions for all three of them. All he wants is to get to know his first daughter. We should really leave it up to Lucy.”

“I don’t like that one bit. I won’t stand a chance in court if I challenge him. He’s the birth father. I’m only the bloke who brought her up.”

“Exactly! You’re the man who helped shape her into the young woman she is now,” Rose argued. “She might not carry your genes, but you’ve passed ideas, knowledge and values on to her. You’ve given her your love and attention. She’s a very lucky girl.”

He smiled wanly.

“Trust her to make the right decision,” Rose said. She withdrew her fingers and cupped his face with both her hands. “You’re a great Dad, Dave.”

When he laughed, it was a spluttered sound, and his tears spilled over. Rose knew then that he hadn’t cried before. She drew him into her arms. “I love you, Dave. I’m so sorry for causing you so much distress.”

“You didn’t know,” he managed to say. “I’m so glad I have you. I love you so much, Rose.”

When they kissed, it was wetter than usual as tears and snot mingled with saliva.

-:-

“You’ve seen the aliens?” Ewan asked, his food forgotten.

Rose had made schnitzel and potato salad with a recipe she’d brought back from an extended stay in Germany. Lottie had helped a little and shown Rose some tricks that weren’t mentioned in the cook book she’d picked up.

Lucy smiled. “Briefly. They looked human.”

“Oh.” Ewan sounded disappointed.

“That’s because they’re wearing a Shimmer,” Mickey explained. “A small device that makes them look human so we aren’t scared.”

“What do they look like when they’re at home?” Lucy wanted to know.

“Like Smurfs. Minus the hat and trousers, but with two sets of arms,” Mickey said.

“Wow!” Ewan stared.

Dave watched his children interact with the Torchwood staff. Paul was there as well. He was in a wheelchair, and since he had responded well to the drip he had been taken off it. The cannula was still in place, though, just in case. They had told this children that Paul was a bit weak still and that it was clinic regulations that had him in the wheelchair to cover the fact that he had lost the use of his legs.

Sitting with Rose in the cloister chamber seemed so long ago, and when he caught Lucy’s eye he beamed at her, wanting her to know that he was very happy to have her back.

“And they’re coming all that way just because of me?” Paul asked softly. Everyone went silent at his words.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Rose said. “They are. But we’d do the same if necessary.”

“Couldn’t they just… email the recipe for the cure?” he asked.

“No, they’ll have to see you. But don’t worry, they’ll wear their Shimmer.”

“Will they take it off? If I asked nicely?” Ewan wanted to know.

“They might,” Mickey replied with a wink.

Sarah left after dinner and they all gathered to play games together before Dominic announced it was time for bed for the wee ones. He took Paul down to his room, all of his siblings in tow — they wanted to make sure that their brother was all right by himself. “I’ll stay with you tonight,” Lucy announced, and no matter what Dominic said he was unable to convince her to sleep in one of the guest rooms and leave the night watch to him and Frankie. Dave stayed with them for a while before he joined Rose in the guest suite’s lounge. It was Lottie’s night off, and she had put Ewan and Evie to bed without any fuss.

“How did you do that?”

“They were asleep on their feet,” Rose laughed as he sat on the sofa beside her. “As is their gorgeous Dad.”

“I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I went to bed. Besides, it’s occupied already.”

“Sorry,” Rose said. She’d been unable to convince Evie and Ewan to sleep in their own beds.

“Don’t worry,” Dave said. “I don’t think I’ll get much sleep tonight.”

“Oh?”

He chuckled. “I can’t possibly allow Lucy to sit by Paul’s bed all night.”

“No.”

“Would you hold me?” he asked.

“Course I will,” Rose said, and they shifted to accommodate each other’s limbs and bodies on the sofa. Dave ended up lying between Rose’s legs, his head cushioned on her chest and her arms around him.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, pressing the backs of her fingers to his lips. Then he tilted his head. “Kiss me?”

She did, and somehow he managed to shift and get a better angle to kiss her back. When his tongue touched hers he was taken back to the afternoons they’d made love and he felt his jeans grow tight. He slipped his free hand beneath her shirt to feel her skin. It was terrifying how much he needed Rose and the generous comfort of her body and her love.

Rose’s fingers were in his hair and beneath his own shirt, her caresses delicious. He so wanted to make love to her to reassure her. What she’d done for Lucy was wonderful, and he loved her even more for the fact that she had been completely open and honest with him that afternoon. He hadn’t thought so at first, but then he had realised that she was right. Lucy couldn’t possibly be forced to do something she didn’t want to, and her reaction when she’d seen him and Paul that afternoon had spoken volumes. This was not the reaction of someone who felt at home with the birth father she’d only met a short while before.

“I love you, Rose,” he whispered.

“Dave?” Rose said, breaking the kiss. She looked pointedly in the direction of the bedrooms. When his gaze followed hers, he saw Evie standing there, wide-eyed and clutching her doll Amy.

“Dad?” she asked sleepily. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, but she wasn’t blind without them. She had seen him and Rose. There was no doubt about it.

“Aye, sweetheart?” he asked, sitting up.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Do you want a cuddle?” he asked, shifting away from Rose a little.

“You’re cuddling with Rose,” Evie pointed out.

He sighed.

“I think your Dad wants a cuddle with you more than with me,” Rose said, sitting up and straightening her clothes. Dave’s eyes went wide at her words.

“Can I have a story too?” Evie asked.

“Sure,” Dave said, regaining the power of speech.

With a satisfied nod and an adorable smile Evie padded to her own bed which she’d never used.

“You go ahead,” Rose whispered, stretching to steal a kiss from him. “I’ll wait.”

By the time he returned to the lounge, Rose had fallen asleep. He spread a blanket over her and sat with her leaning into him. “Good night, my love.”


	35. Chapter 35

Dave made coffee and took it down to the infirmary for Dominic and Frankie. He still couldn’t believe that it was only the two of them who took turns watching Paul, and making them coffee was the only thing he could do to show them how much he appreciated their help. Frankie was by herself in the small staff room, and her face lit up as she saw him standing in the doorway, rapping his knuckles on the open glass door. They did have a fancy Italian coffee maker, but she waved him inside and accepted the stainless steel thermos flask he had brought.

“Thank you, Dave,” she said, getting a mug from the cupboard. When she asked him if he wanted some too, he declined. If there was any chance of him catching a few hours of sleep it was now. Paul was doing very well, all things considered. So far, he had kept his dinner down; he seemed to have perked up since Lucy’s arrival. “I’ve checked on them a couple of minutes ago,” she informed him, gesturing at the screen mounted on the wall that monitored his vital signs. The green line spiked regularly with his calm heartbeat, and numbers informed the onlooker of other readings. “He’s fallen asleep, but Lucy won’t move from his side.”

“They’re close,” Dave said. Then he changed his mind. “I’ll send her to bed and stay here myself.”

“No,” Frankie said, sipping her coffee. “Oh, this is good.”

“What?”

“The coffee. It’s fantastic.”

“No, I mean… Lucy should get some sleep,” Dave explained. “I’ll sit with him.”

“I doubt she’ll allow that. Plus, Dominic told me that if he found you sitting up with Paul when he comes on duty again, he’ll personally strap you to a bed and inject you with Aphisalian moon bloom.”

“With what?”

“The strongest soporific that we can possibly administer to humans without causing permanent damage,” she explained, her tone perfectly conversational. “Although… I’d quite like to see you strapped to a bed.”

Dave gaped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… my gob. It’s inexcusable.”

“It’s not that,” Dave said. “You’d really do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Miss Tyler would probably approve of it too. You are asleep on your feet, Dave. Go to bed. I promise we’ll let you know if anything happens.”

He was very reluctant to leave. He couldn’t possibly leave his daughter in charge of the night watch. But he also knew that Frankie was right. He was ready to drop. “Let me just check if she needs anything.”

Frankie smiled and he knew she was indulging him. It was more than likely that Lucy had sent her away several times by now, telling her that she didn’t need anything. “If you’re still here in five minutes’ time, I’ll get that Aphisalian moon bloom.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

When he slid the door to Paul’s room open he winced briefly. In the still of the night the very soft hiss of the door sounded surprisingly loud, and, alerted by the noise, Lucy turned around in the chair by Paul’s bedside. The copy of _The Philosopher’s Stone_ was in her lap, open to the random page where he’d tucked the magazine clipping and Rose’s business card. She held it up when he joined her.

“I’d wondered about that,” Dave said. “I thought Rose had given it to me by mistake.”

“At the thing,” Lucy said, smoothing her fingers over the clipping.

“After,” he said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed so as not to jostle Paul. “Rose offered me a job. The Heritage Trust Fund needs some good photos. But this is her Torchwood card.” He plucked it from between her fingers.

“She gave it to me,” Lucy explained softly. “Are you mad at me, Dad?”

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, his heart breaking a little. “Just very scared. I wish I could have been there for you after… what happened in the park.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“I suppose it’s fine now.”

She sighed and took the business card back. “The Sheeryan seemed very shocked that I’d seen them.”

“Of course they would. We’re not supposed to know about them.”

“They will help Paul, though, won’t they?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

He reached out to straighten the sheets. Paul was deeply asleep, and his cheeks were tinted pink by sleep.

“Will you be all right by yourself?” he asked, reluctant once more to leave her alone.

“I’m not alone,” Lucy pointed out, glancing at Frankie standing just inside the door. One of her hands was buried in the pocket of her trousers, and Dave had no doubt that it held the phial containing the moon bloom.

“No, you’re not. I’m afraid she’ll make me sleep if I don’t leave soon,” he said, managing a smile.

“I’m fine, Dad. Really.”

He stood and bent to kiss her forehead. “I know. Good night, Lucy. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good night, Dad.”

He left the room, following Frankie’s invitation as she gestured for him to precede her into the hall. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” he asked, looking pointedly at the hand in her pocket.

“Nope,” she said, producing the phial.

“Right.” He nodded at her and turned on his heel to head for the lift. “Good night, Frankie.”

“Nightie-night.”

-:-

Rose was still asleep on the sofa when he returned from the infirmary. She looked beautiful in the sunset-like light of the lounge and he couldn’t resist her. He’d delete the photo if she didn’t like it — he had taken it without her permission. He found the small camera he kept in his coat pocket and took her photo. Her hair came out a rich honey hue, and the soft glow let her skin look impossibly soft and made him want to run his tongue along her jaw and down her neck to taste her.

Dave blinked.

This was hardly the right setting to be having such thoughts but the truth was that he missed her, and he both wanted and needed her badly. He wasn’t sure he’d have gotten through all this if it wasn’t for her support which she so willingly offered despite his reluctance.

She was a miracle, his Rose. She understood the choices he had to make; and what he liked best was that she didn’t accept all of them, that she had the courage to tell him that he was wrong and the wisdom not to impose her opinion, or her will, on him. For that, he loved her. Above all, she understood about the bairns, and she understood them as well. She treated each of them as a person in their own right, without the patronising attitude he’d seen so often from other adults. She must be a wonderful big sister.

The floorboards creaked softly when he entered the bedroom that was, theoretically at least, his. Evie was in her own bed, so only Ewan lay sprawled across the bed hugging a pillow to himself the way he used to sleep with a teddy. He’d long since given it up, deciding he’d outgrown it. Dave smiled. This night, he’d make the bed his.

He toed off his boots and bent to pick Ewan up to carry him to the room that had been made up for him. His son was so deeply asleep that he didn’t stir until Dave carefully lay him down and covered him with the pristine blue duvet. Ewan snuggled into the cold bed, and Dave left him with a kiss to the cheek. He was taking advantage of a sleeping person again, but it was a kiss for his beloved boy, who’d not only outgrown his teddy but also his father’s kisses; he’d never know and, right now, Dave was bursting with love and gratitude. He couldn’t not kiss him.

“Dave?”

He jumped a little when he heard Rose whisper his name. He turned around and found her still lying on the sofa, but she had tilted her head so she was able to look at him.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he said, walking up to her and kneeling on the deep-pile rug in front of the sofa.

“I was just napping,” she said, cupping his cheek. “Is everyone all right?”

“Aye. I’m not sure I like Lucy sitting with Paul, but Frankie threatened me with moon bloom.”

Rose chuckled softly.

“Is it true what she says then? About its potency?”

“Oh yes. I’ve been on the receiving end of it. I slept for almost a day; they put me on a heart monitor to make sure I was still alive,” she said, smiling.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, they know about the dosage now,” she reassured him. “But I know a far better sleeping drug.” She had dropped her voice a few notches that told him exactly what was on her mind. He felt a twinge low in his abdomen.

“Do ye now?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, shifting towards him a little so she could kiss him. She brushed her tongue over his lips to beg entrance. He yielded at her gentle touch, shivering at the familiar yet new sensation of her tongue against his. He had to admit that he had been irrationally afraid of Agent Tyler.

“I can’t imagine what that might be,” he said when they came up for air. “They say moon bloom is the best.”

“But only half the fun. Unless you like being poked by needles.”

He chuckled. “A bloke could misunderstand this, ye know.”

“Who knows,” Rose said, looking all innocent. “Some people get off on physical pain.”

“Not me, I don’t. As you should well know.”

“I do, my love. I do,” she replied, silencing him with another kiss, and this time she quietened his thoughts as well. There was nothing on his mind but kissing Rose and tasting her, falling into her.

“Bedroom?” Rose asked when it ended.

All he could do was nod. He climbed to his feet and held out a hand for Rose to help her up.

“Did Evie say anything about seeing us? Apart from the cuddling thing?”

“No,” he sighed. “That’s what worries me a little.”

“Do you think she’s going to tell on us?”

“Maybe she thinks this was only about a cuddle, that it’s all really innocent.”

“Well, we did have our clothes on,” Rose pointed out, giggling. She sobered quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. Assuming she thinks this is anything but innocent — just assuming — what are we going to do about it?”

Dave ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure. I suppose we wait and cross that bridge when we get there? She likes you a lot.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that she can keep a secret. Or think it’s a perfectly natural thing for us to do so it doesn’t need discussing. She did get her cuddle, after all.”

“And a story?”

“And a story,” he said, closing the bedroom door behind him. “Rose?”

“Yes?”

“Can we not talk about the bairns now?”

Rose nodded slowly. She stepped into his arms and drew him close. Holding her felt so good that for a wee moment he thought he’d be content just to snuggle up under the covers with her in his arms. But he also knew that that wasn’t enough, not tonight, no matter how tired he was.

He kissed her, hard and hungrily. Rose had to slow him down at one point. “I’m all yours, Dave,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just… I don’t think I can do hard and fast tonight.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m all over the place.” When he withdrew, his dark eyes were beginning to well up.

“I know. Let me do this for you.” She stepped away from him and began to undress. Bit by bit she revealed her creamy skin, taking her time to tease him. When she was just in her knickers and bra she stepped over to him, brushing against him deliciously as she stretched up to pull his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head. She then stepped back just enough so she could reach between them to undo the fastenings of his jeans which she pulled down along with his pants. She ended up kneeling in front of him, looking at his hardening penis. The erotic images that filled his mind were only compounded by the sight of her on her knees in front of him.

He jumped slightly as she touched his calf for him to lift his foot so she could take off his clothes and socks. Memories of the stormy Sunday when she had sucked him to orgasm washed over him. His cock hardened further at the memory, and Rose giggled. Her hands were on his thighs.

She looked up at him, licking her lips. Dave groaned.

“What do you want, Dave?”

His mind went suddenly blank. He knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to suck him and he wanted to come in her mouth, but he couldn’t find the words to ask her. He didn’t want to sound too crude. And then he realised. This was exactly what Rose wanted. Two could play at that game.

He bent slightly forward to pull the elastic from her lopsided ponytail, ruffling her heavy locks and running his splayed fingers through it like a comb. Then he cupped the back of her head, keeping his touch light so she wouldn’t be scared or feel forced to do something she wasn’t ready to.

“I want you,” he said. “I want you naked on the bed.” He let go of her and went around the bed to crawl onto it on the far side. The temptation to touch himself was great as he watched her slide off her bra and her knickers. Rose climbed onto the bed and stretched languorously on top of the chocolate coloured duvet. Her skin whispered over the satiny material as she rolled to lie on her side facing him.

“Do you trust me, Rose?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He lay down facing her, gesturing for her to roll and spoon up to him. He slid his arm around her from underneath so he could freely touch her with his right hand. She opened her thighs in invitation but he resisted the urge to dip his fingers into her as long as he could possibly restrain himself. He wanted to make this last. His fingers explored her thighs and the crease of her groin, grazed through her trimmed curls and pulled and brushed her nipples. Somehow, Rose managed to twist in his tight embrace so they could kiss, and as she did so she pressed against his cock. He moaned into her mouth.

“Dave,” Rose sighed as he removed his hand from between her legs to touch her lips with her own dampness.

“Yes, my love.”

“I need you. Please.” She reached between her legs and found his cock to give him a few strokes.

Reluctantly, he let go of her. He’d wanted to make this last, but her neediness rubbed off on him. As he scrambled off the bed to get a condom from his bag, he saw Rose shift onto her stomach, drawing one knee up. He hadn’t touched her folds and yet they shone wetly. The lighting in here was the same as in the lounge, and it cast the landscape of the scars on her back in stark contrast of day and night.

Dave joined her on the bed once he found one of the elusive foil packets, smoothing his left hand against the small of her back so she didn’t move. “Let me look at you.”

Rose shifted a bit, turning her face so she could watch him as he looked at her scars, her arm tucked under her, worrying her thumb with her teeth. “Touch them,” she whispered.

Never removing his left hand, he reached out to touch the hardened skin. It almost felt like the rubbery latex masks customers had worn for the Halloween shoot the previous year.

“What do they feel like?” she asked.

He told her.

Rose hummed in agreement. “Have I spoiled the mood? I shouldn’t have turned.”

“I want you like this, Rose. If you don’t mind.” He gave himself a few strokes before he rolled on the condom. Rose was about to rock back and push herself to her hands and knees but at his touch to the small of her back she remained still. He began to kiss her scars, ran his tongue along the hills and valleys, making his way to the long, curved line of her spine until he reached the top her bum. Following a sudden inspiration, he gently bit the globe of her bum, eliciting a soft cry and sigh from her. She opened her legs in invitation and as a plea. Holding her by the hips, he ran his tongue along her flesh, playing with her clit and gently nibbling her labia with the occasional kiss and bite to her bum thrown in.

“Dave!” she cried, pushing her hips up at him.

He straddled her thighs and guided the tip of his penis to her folds, teasing both of them before pushing past her lips and inside her. The feeling of being joined with her again was sheer bliss. He sank into her as deeply as he could, enjoying the ripples of her muscles as they squeezed him. Rose moaned and squirmed beneath him.

Once he was inside her, he leaned forward onto his elbows, stretching out half on top of her. He wove his fingers through hers as they scrabbled for purchase in the taut linen. She moaned his name.

“You okay?” he managed to say, cupping the top of her head with his free hand. He leaned down to kiss her temple.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Just… let’s just stay like this for a while.”

He closed his eyes as he savoured the most intimate embrace he had ever shared with a woman. He had often wondered what it would be like to make love in this position, and being joined with Rose like this was one of the most exquisite sensations he’d ever felt. Eventually, he pushed his knee between her legs, nudging her to draw her knee up; he sank even more deeply into her, and Rose groaned as he brushed over every sensitive spot inside her.

“Oh Rose,” he whispered.

She pushed herself up a bit so they could share a kiss. Rose pushed her bum back against him. “Please, Dave.”

He began to move, slowly pulling out until only the head of his cock was nestled inside her. Rose gave him a little squeeze, pleading with him to push back inside. Soon, they managed to set up a gentle rhythm until Rose shifted, pushing against him so they rolled to lie on their sides. She twisted further in his arms, draping her leg over his hip and turning to reach for his lips in a kiss, and so he could touch her breasts.

“This is so good,” she sighed. “I love it like this. But I want to kiss you.”

“Aye,” he said, kissing her, touching her chin. Their rhythm was slow and lazy, a declaration of love in itself. “I love you, Rose.”

He dropped his hand to touch her her clit, but she soon pushed him away with her hand. “It’s so good without them,” she moaned. “Just caress me.”

He rolled her nipples between his fingers, gently massaging her breast or just feathering his fingertips over them. “I want you to come for me, Rose. I’ve got you. Let yourself go. Come for me.”

Dave pushed inside her with a few short strokes, brushing over the sensible flesh inside her. And she came, crying out her pleasure. He closed his lips over hers to share it and muffle it a little. He drew her close to him, holding her as her body trembled. Her muscles rippled around him, bringing him close to his own orgasm, but it wasn’t quite enough yet.

Rose rolled, pushing him off her. The air in the room was cold around his penis, and he sat back on his heels in surprise. What was she doing?

Before he could ask her, however, Rose had taken hold of his cock and ran her fingers along its slippery length before straddling him and guiding him inside her once more. “Your turn, my love,” she purred, sinking onto him.

Dave’s eyes fluttered shut and he groaned. He leaned back on one hand, draping his arm around Rose to hold her close, but he knew it was only a token gesture. She was going to ride him to orgasm, and he tried to meet each of her strokes as best he could. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her hair brushed his arm as she threw back her head. Unable to resist, he opened his eyes and looked at her, the long line of her neck, the curve of her breasts. Her mouth was open in a silent sigh.

“Rose,” he panted. “Look at me.”

She looked at him, and before he knew it, she was kissing him, her hips rolling against his, her muscles clenching around him.

“Come, Dave. Come for me,” she whispered, nibbling at his bottom lip, drawing her fingers through his stubble. “Come.” She rocked forward, pulling him in deeper and he came. He pulsed into her a few times as she clenched around him. A small orgasm rippled through her to accompany his. Light-headed, he held her to him, his face buried just above her breasts where her skin was damp and smelled so deliciously. He could hear her heart beat frantically, in time with his.

Rose cradled his head to her and stroked his damp back until they had to let go of each so he could clean up a little. The tissues on the bedside table would have to do for now, and he chucked the wad into the bin.

“That was wonderful,” Rose said, settling against him as he lay back in the pillows.

“ _You_ were wonderful,” he said, trying not to be too proud of himself. He had made her scream, and he hoped that the kids hadn’t heard them.


	36. Chapter 36

The first time Rose woke on Sunday morning it was the crack of dawn. Dave was stretched out beside her, his face relaxed in the oblivion of sleep. It only briefly occurred to her sleep-addled mind that she had slept through the night in Dave’s bed. She had meant to sneak away to her room after he had fallen asleep so the kids wouldn’t surprise them. She ought to have stolen out of his bed, but she didn’t, wanting to stay with him just a few more minutes. Of course, she fell asleep again.

They'd stayed up too late after making love even though Dave had looked ready to drop when he'd found her asleep on the couch. So when she woke a second time to the gentle hum on the bedside table, she slid out of bed being careful not to jostle him and hurried to the en suite with the phone when she recognized the caller ID.

“Rose?” Dominic asked.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Isn’t this Dave’s phone?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Right. Well, um,” Dominic said. “Paul’s condition has changed.”

“What happened?” Rose asked in alarm, turning towards the bathroom door. She fished for a towel and wrapped it around herself, tucking the mobile awkwardly between her ear and her shoulder.

“Paul is running a fever. It’s nothing to be afraid of. Actually, it’s a good sign because it means his body is fighting whatever’s inside him. Which is why we’re just monitoring him. I’ve already contacted Aquiouk,” he informed her.

“Okay.”

“His temperature is 38.5, Rose. It really is all right,” Dominic reassured her. “I just thought that it might reassure Paul a little if his father were with him.”

“Where’s Lucy?”

“She’s fallen asleep and I put her to bed in the next room. Poor thing was completely exhausted.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” Rose said. “Dave’s asleep and I don’t want to wake him.”

“He needs his rest,” Dominic agreed, but it was clear that he’d rather he came downstairs.

Sighing, she rang off and looked at herself in the mirror. Yesterday’s mascara had left dark smudges under her eyes, so she grabbed a fresh flannel and washed her face. The cool water roused her senses, and for a moment she was tempted to take a shower, but she decided against it. The splashing would probably wake Dave. So she hurried back to the bedroom as quietly as she could on the creaking floorboards.

Dropping a kiss on his bare shoulder, she tugged the duvet up around him and collected her clothes. She didn’t bother getting dressed; the residential area of Torchwood would be deserted, so she might as well nip back to her own suite clad in only a towel.

Rose knew she ought to wake him and tell him about Paul’s fever, but Dave had been so upset about Lucy the night before. The fact that Paul had eaten dinner with them had filled him with hope, and the news of the fever would crush him, even if Dominic explained to him that it was actually quite a good development. If only there were something she could do to help Dave. No matter how close they were he was still left alone with his fear and his grief.

After a quick shower she went to the infirmary, where she headed directly for Paul’s room. He lay, dozing, snuggled up to his chin in the covers — the perfect picture of a sleeping boy. When Rose felt his forehead, it was warmer to the touch than usual.

Frankie turned up with a mug of coffee and a sympathetic squeeze to her shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” Frankie said, but her words were filled with doubt, implying the question if Paul would appreciate her presence when probably all he would probably want was his Dad when he woke up.

“I didn’t have it in me to wake Dave,” Rose explained, wrapping her hands around the very hot mug.

Frankie nodded, humming. “You should make it clear to him that the fever isn’t anything to be concerned about, though,” she said softly, tugging quite unnecessarily on the sheets.

“Of course I will,” Rose said. She had the indistinct feeling that he was going to need all the reassurance he could get.

Frankie left with a nod. Rose sipped her coffee and pulled up the chair to sit with Paul. She didn’t think she’d have to wait long for Dave to appear. He’d probably roll over and find her side of the bed empty and cold. Hopefully, he’d not be alarmed. Her absence could mean so many things. She should have left him a note.

Rose picked up the copy of Harry Potter and smiled. As she opened it at random, a magazine clipping and a business card fluttered out and settled by her feet and a little ways underneath the bed. The business card was the one she’d given to Lucy.

Rose froze. If Dave had brought the book to reread it, had he found the business card between the pages or had Lucy used it as a bookmark last night? Had he known that Lucy and she had met?

As she went down on her knees to pick up the magazine clipping, she noticed that it was torn from one of the women’s mags that had bought Dave’s photos from the charity event. Kneeling, she unfolded it and looked at her photo.

“I put it in there.”

Lucy’s voice made her jump. When Rose looked up she found Lucy standing at the foot of her brother’s bed.

“It’s a very good photo,” Lucy continued, squatting beside her. “I think you look a little bit lost in it.” After a pause she added, “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, well,” Rose said, blushing. Although she was used to accepting compliments, Lucy’s threw her; maybe because it was heartfelt. Maybe because it was Lucy.

“Am I right? About you looking lost? I’ve been wondering.”

Rose hesitated for a beat. It was clear that Lucy was still looking for her place in the world, or rather, in two families, but Rose had the feeling that the girl had a better idea of where she belonged than she’d had the last time they’d talked. Should she tell her that yes, she had felt a little lost? Had that changed because she had fallen in love with Dave? “You’re right.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t really feel at home at such events,” Rose explained. “Your father has a knack for capturing people at their most… when they are themselves.”

“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” Lucy said, folding up the clipping.

“I had no idea you were his daughter. Miss Morris.”

Lucy chuckled. Then she sobered, looking hard at her. Rose wanted to close her eyes; had she just given herself away? “Photographing people is very different from photographing architecture,” Lucy said. “He keeps saying so.”

“Are you interested in photography?” Rose asked.

Lucy shrugged. “He’s so passionate about it. I’ve never really tried. I don’t think I’d be good enough.”

 _Oh Lucy_. “I think he’d be thrilled to show you,” Rose said. And bit her lip.

“Do you think?” Lucy knelt on the floor facing her.

Rose nodded.

“Taking photos for the Heritage Trust Fund will give him a great opportunity to get away from everything for a while. It certainly did help me,” Lucy said. “Thank you for suggesting living with Stuart.”

Rose would have sighed in relief, but she also knew she had to tread very carefully now. She still had no idea if Lucy knew about Dave and her, but just in case she didn’t there was no reason to spill the beans now. That was Dave’s prerogative; besides, he had made it clear that he wanted to decide when to tell his children about their relationship. “And?”

“Dad’s… Dad. He’s my father. He’s been around for as long as I can remember,” Lucy said. “I love him. I like Stuart, and I like the Quinlans. I really do. But it’s not the same. I love my family. Even if they can be infuriating.”

Rose chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

“Can I ask you something, Rose?”

“Anything.”

“Why do you know all these things? You aren’t that old.”

Rose laughed, stifling the sound with her hand over her mouth, remembering where they were. “Thank you. I guess.”

Lucy coloured and ducked her head.

“Lucy. Look at me.”

She did.

“I know because I lost my home and had to make a new one,” Rose began, deciding to take that leap of faith. “I grew up far away from my father. It was just Mum and me, and we didn’t have much money. And then, one day, I lost that home. I was lucky because I had Mum with me, and because losing that home brought me back to my Dad. I know what not knowing where one belongs is like. And meeting a father you don’t know.”

“Why?” Lucy asked. “Why weren’t your parents together?”

The answer to that question was public knowledge. Pete’s PR people had deemed it a good idea to come up with a reasonable story to explain Rose’s sudden appearance. But Rose supposed Lucy needed to hear it from her. It was only half a lie. “He didn’t know about me. Mum never told him about me.”

“She didn’t even send him photos?”

Rose shook her head. “She didn’t want his money. What she didn’t know was that he really loved her. So…” She trailed off.

Lucy looked at her in surprise. Then she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it. At her second attempt she said, “I know how that feels. I’m not sure about Stuart loving Mum that much, though.”

Rose smiled. “It wasn’t easy, but we eventually made our peace with each other.” The truth was, of course, that there had been no such thing. They’d had to get to know each other, but that been mostly between Mum and Pete. Rose forgot for most of the time that Pete was not her birth father, and she didn’t care that he wasn’t. He doted on her; he’d always wanted children. This universe’s Jackie hadn’t.

“I’m sorry about your aunt,” Lucy said.

“I didn’t know her, but thanks.” According to the spin doctors, Pete had married Jackie’s twin, not knowing that the woman he had fallen in love with — Andrea, which was Jackie’s second name — had a sister. It was a tale of confusion and sibling rivalry, and since ‘Jackie’ had died at the hands of the Cybermen, there was no one to prove that story wrong. The story sounded a bit Mills and Boone, but the people, and, more importantly, the press bought it, and after a while, it had been accepted and forgotten. In their minds, Andrea was Pete’s rightful wife. Rose had asked him once if that didn’t betray this universe’s Jackie’s memory. “They’re very different, Rose, and I love them both,” was all he’d said. They’d never spoken of it again. Maybe she ought to talk to Pete and her Mum about loving another universe’s version of their deceased spouses; she and Dave and the Doctor weren’t much different.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Lucy said. She climbed to her feet. “It’s good to be treated like an adult.

“Well, you’re behaving very adult,” Rose said. Lucy was being very reasonable about the emotional turmoil she’d been subjected to. It wasn’t fair to make her choose without proper guidance. Dave was doing his very best, but he had the other kids to think of, and he couldn’t possibly answer all the questions Lucy had.

Lucy coloured slightly. “Do you think?”

“You are,” Dave replied. He was standing just inside the room with Evie on his hip and Ewan by his side. Rose hated herself a bit for falling for Dave all over again as she saw him in the role of a father. It was hormones and genetic programming or whatever, but he was just perfect as a dad. She felt her heart swell with love. At the same time, her heart clenched. The Torchwood doctors had implied that it might be difficult for her to conceive. She'd crossed the Void, and the effects of travelling in time and space probably wouldn't help. They had no experience to fall back on, of course, but she’d come to terms with never having children of her own. She had no idea how Dave would react if she told him.

 _What are you thinking?_ she scolded herself. Far ahead of anything. She didn’t even know if Dave wanted to be with her like that.

“Dad!” Lucy squeaked in embarrassment.

“Good morning,” Rose said, rising.

“How is Paul?” Dave asked, crouching to put Evie down.

“He’s got a temperature,” Lucy said.

“Dominic reckons it’s a good thing. It means his body’s fighting whatever’s inside him,” Rose hurried to explain.

Dave looked sceptical, but she suppressed the urge to go and reassure him. She had to admit to herself that Dominic’s words sounded like anything but good news. Dave went to Paul to feel his forehead. The boy’s eyes fluttered open at the gentle touch.

“Hey there,” Dave said. “Sleep well?”

“I had a weird dream,” Paul said softly.

“What was it about?”

“I dreamt I saw Mum.”

Dave’s shoulders tensed and Lucy bit her lip. Evie, Rose could see, clamped her hand over her mouth. Ewan’s eyes wandered from person to person in the room, unsure of what to make of this.

“I dream of her a lot,” Dave said eventually, ruffling his son’s brown hair. Rose felt a stab of jealousy pierce her chest, but she knew immediately that she had no right to feel that way. Dave still loved Rita; he wasn't just saying it to make Paul feel better, he meant it.

“I miss her every day,” Ewan said from where he was standing. Rose’s heart clenched. He was still stood just in the doorway, like someone who didn’t know where — if — he belonged.

“I talk to her,” Evie said matter-of-factly. “I tell her everything that happened during the day.”

“You do?” Dave couldn’t help asking. Rose knew that as far as he was concerned he had no idea how his youngest was mourning her mother, how she was coping. Obviously quite well. She stuck to telling her Mum about her day as if nothing had happened. Rose envied her resilience.

“Don’t you?” Evie asked in surprise.

“Of course we do, but differently,” Lucy said, joining Evie and kneeling beside her to give her a hug.

“How?” the little girl asked.

“I tell her in my thoughts. I look at her photo. You know, the one Dad took last September when we were at the seaside.”

“That was great!” Evie enthused. “Can I have that photo, Dad?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart.”

Rose decided to leave then. They were sharing some family memories, and she’d probably more than outstayed her welcome. She nodded briefly at Dave before she turned to leave. Dave found her eyes as she looked back into the room and his expression was a mixture of helplessness and gratitude. She smiled briefly at him before she left. This was something he had to do by himself.

Rose hurried into the hall, heading towards the lift. That had been intense. It had also given her insight into the family dynamics. While she knew Dave was a good Dad she also knew that he had no idea how to grieve with his children. It was all right too, in a way, because their personalities were so different. Maybe things with Dave had been a bit rushed. Maybe they should have waited a while.

-:-

The phone was shaking in his hand as he tapped Rose’s number on speed dial. Jake had told him that she had left the Priory before breakfast. Dave couldn’t blame her for wanting to go home for a bit, but he also missed her terribly. When he’d woken this morning he’d been by himself, and he had felt the emptiness of her side of the bed acutely. He knew, of course, that she’d been right to leave, but he didn’t want to be by himself after spending the night with Rose. He needed her. Now more than ever.

Thankfully, she answered her phone at once.

“Dave, what’s happened?” she asked, her voice anxious.

“I…” He didn’t know what to tell her first. Things had gone pear-shaped on a grand scale after lunch. Paul was now running a high fever and Ewan was missing. Evie wanted Rita. And Lucy? She was urging him to get Anna or Rose or both.

“What’s wrong, Dave?”

“Ewan’s missing and Paul’s temperature turned into a fever,” Dave blurted. “Dominic thinks it’s a symptom now and… Rose, I need you. Please. I… I can’t think straight. I want to stay with Paul but Ewan… he needs me too, and Evie wants her Mum…” He was a rubbish father. He should be able to give one of them priority, but he was having a hard time thinking straight. Rita would have known what to do, but Rita was gone. He felt so lost without her. Without Rose. How come they always knew what to do and what to say? Both of them had a knack for finding exactly the right words at the right moment.

“Have the boys look for Ewan. He can’t have a favourite hiding place since the Priory’s new to him. Stay with Evie and Paul until they’ve found him,” Rose said.

“But…” Images of Ewan in a road accident, much like his mother, flashed in front of Dave’s eyes.

“They know where to look, trust me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“Yes,” he said. She was right. Of course. “Thank you, Rose.”


	37. Chapter 37

They found Ewan just after Rose arrived at the Priory. She had to literally push Dave away from Paul’s bedside. “You should go and see him,” Rose said, taking the warm, damp flannel from him which he’d been about to dip into the bowl of water on the bedside table. “I’ll sit with Paul.”

“Thank you,” Dave said. “Thank you so much, Rose.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheekbone.

Rose smiled. “’s okay. Now go.” As he left, he could hear her whisper softly to his son over the tinkling of the water in the bowl as Rose renewed the compress. He was so grateful to her for coming, for her willingness to help.

“He’s at Tony’s,” Lucy told him when they met in the hall outside Paul’s room. For a moment he wondered if she’d seen him kiss Rose, but that would have to wait until later. Ewan needed him now. “The chef found him in the larder.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dave said, taking her hand briefly.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No. No, I think Ewan and I need to be by ourselves for a while,” Dave said. “But thank you.”

Lucy gave him a long, hard look, but she nodded. Dave pressed on to the Italian restaurant, where Bertie showed him to the secluded table he had shared with Rose, Mickey and Jake when they’d first met. A tall glass of Italian lemonade sat before his son, but it seemed untouched. Ewan was sitting with his elbows on the table, hanging his head in a mixture of sorrow and shame. Dave nodded at Jake who was standing at a little distance.

“I don’t need a guard,” Ewan said as he took a seat on the chair next to him.

Dave sighed, accepting the coffee Bertie placed in front of him. Then Jake and the host disappeared. “It got too much for you, eh?” Dave asked.

Ewan wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he nodded.

“I wish Mum were here.”

“So do I,” Dave said, his voice catching as the lump in his throat became ever bigger. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He couldn’t believe that they had found his boy so quickly, and that he was unharmed. Adrenalin pumped through his body, and it was with shaky fingers that he picked up the coffee cup. “I’m sorry.”

That got Ewan to look up. “Why?”

“You feel bad about what’s happened. I should have looked after you more closely,” Dave said. “But the thing is that it’s only me now and I have to learn a lot. I love you all, so much. Rita… she just knew what to do. I’m a bit rubbish.”

“Yeah.”

Dave guffawed.

“Dad? What if… I’m so scared about Paul. You must hate me.”

Dave dropped the cup onto its saucer with a clatter as it slipped in his fingers. “I don’t hate you, Ewan. It was an accident. Nobody’s fault.”

“But…”

“No but, Ewan. I love you just as much as any of the others. It’s just difficult to know where to be, with whom to be.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m furious with myself,” Dave said.

“You’re silly. You’re Dad. You…” Ewan began, but as the boy spoke it became obvious that he realised that his father wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. _Great job_ , Dave reprimanded himself. _Go and shatter your child’s trust in you, why don’t you_. “What about Lucy?”

“What about her?” Dave asked, the words now stifled as he felt it increasingly hard to breathe. He leaned back for a deep breath, but he nearly choked. The coffee, he realised, had burnt his tongue. And he’d taken it without sugar.

“What I said to her…”

“You have to talk to her about that,” Dave said. “But she’s your sister, and she’ll understand. We’ve got to stick together from now on, Ewan. And we’ll get through this. Together.”

“Can we… look at some photos again, please? I can’t remember…” Ewan’s voice faded as his emotions overwhelmed him. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he nearly knocked the lemonade glass over as he moved to wrap his arms around Dave’s neck. A bit surprised by the sudden motion, Dave drew his son onto his lap and held him close as he sobbed against his neck. The poor boy was so torn between being strong and maintaining a role he had created to make himself heard over his siblings — quite unnecessarily so — and now he was falling apart under the burden. How had it gotten so bad? Hadn’t Rita and he always tried to treat all their children equally? Had they tried hard enough?

Dave took a deep breath, the lump dissolving into tears spilling down his cheeks. He held Ewan even closer and felt his son return the gesture.

-:-

“Rose?”

“Yes, love?” she said, straightening in her seat, adjusting the compress on Paul’s forehead.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s spending some time with Ewan. Your aunt will be here soon, though. Is it okay if I stay here until she arrives?” Rose said.

“Yeah,” Paul said, his breath coming out in little puffs.

“Are you having trouble breathing, love?” Rose asked, removing the by now warm compress. The boy was burning up, and as far as she could tell the meds hadn’t taken effect yet. She had a feeling they should have done so by now.

“A little,” Paul said. “Is Ewan… he thinks it’s his fault, doesn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It isn’t,” Paul managed to say before he coughed. Red-tinted spittle exploded on Rose’s chest as he failed to cover his mouth in time. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” he wheezed.

Rose tried to suppress the horror welling up inside her. She needed to stay calm for his sake. “Don’t worry, I have some clothes upstairs.” She stood and pressed the red panic button by his bedside. As she did so, Paul coughed some more and she helped him sit upright, tugging tissues from the box on the table next to his bed.

How long would it take Frankie or Dominic to arrive?

She held Paul upright with her own body, supporting his shaking frame, whispering to him to comfort him.

“Keep holding him,” Dominic instructed as he hurried into the room, whipping his stethoscope off his neck. “Frankie, we need some oxygen.”

Rose moved aside a little, never letting go of Paul as Dominic pushed up his pyjama top to check his lungs. She pressed a kiss onto the boy’s hair. What would she tell Dave when he came back and found out what had happened? He had been close to breaking when he’d called her. If Paul’s condition deteriorated now he’d need all his strength. Maybe it was a good idea to send Evie home with Lottie, or that aunt, whenever she arrived. Wasn’t there a grandmother as well? Grannies usually worked wonders in situations like this.

Paul’s coughing became violent and he dug his fingers into her. She could barely hold him upright, and his coughs dissolved into painful wheezing.

“Put him down,” Dominic instructed her.

“What?”

“Lie him down. Now!”

No sooner had Rose lowered Paul onto the now flat bed than he stopped breathing. “Move away now,” Dominic said, brushing her aside. “Frankie, we need to intubate him.”

“What?” Rose asked in horror as she stumbled away from the bed.

“It’s haemorrhagic fever,” Dominic said, glancing from her chest to Paul. There were thin trickles of blood at his eyes, nose and ears. “Get out now, dump your shirt in the container outside. You know where the scrubs are.”

Rose refused to go. She watched as Dominic and Frankie quickly worked a clear plastic tube down Paul’s throat and connected it to the oxygen outlet in the wall above his bed. She had clamped her hand over her mouth and looked on in horror. How could she possibly tell Dave?

She turned around to leave the room and found herself face to face with Dave. Ewan was with him, and they both looked at her first in surprise, then in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry, Dave,” Rose said in a small voice.

“No.”

-:-

“Please let me see him,” Dave said. “Just for a wee while.”

“He might be contagious after all, we just don’t know. It’s a haemorrhagic fever,” Dominic said, holding Dave by the upper arm to ensure he had his attention.

“Please. Please, I don’t want him to be alone,” Dave begged.

“He’s in a coma, Dave,” Dominic said. They must have been the cruellest words Rose had ever heard.

Dave was trembling as he listened to Dominic, biting the inside of his cheek and looking away. There was only so much the poor man could take, and Dominic was denying him the comfort of being with his sick child.

“Please, Dominic,” she said softly but insistently.

Dominic sighed. “I’m not happy about it.” In his eyes Rose could see, however, that there was a part of him that wanted to say yes wholeheartedly; but he was a professional and he had to keep the safety and health of everyone in mind. “Just a short while. There are some tests we have to run.”

It was always about tests. He’d better alert Aquiouk to the new developments and urge him to hurry. Dave brushed past her and into Paul’s room, taking the flannel from Frankie who was cleaning the boy up a bit. It would take a while for the bleeding to stop. Somehow, she managed to get him to put on a pair of latex gloves.

Torn between comforting Dave and giving him some time with Paul, Rose lingered just outside the door. Ewan was standing beside her, staring numbly. Whatever Dave had said to him to draw him out of his funk, it was gone now. Rose draped her arm around his shoulders and drew him into her side. “Let’s leave them for a while, yeah?”

“What happened?” Ewan said, looking up at her, his eyes resting on the blood on her shirt.

“The fever became worse and he couldn’t breathe. That is why he has a tube down his throat now, to help him with it,” Rose explained. “It happened very quickly.”

Ewan hung his head. “And Dad wasn’t with him because he was with me,” he mumbled.

“He wasn’t alone when it happened. I was there,” Rose said, feeling a little ridiculous for telling him that. As far as the kids were concerned, she was the boss of Torchwood, trying to set things right, not a friend who was there to offer support; even if she had made dinner for them the previous night.

“He likes you,” Ewan said.

Rose looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to say that. Of all of Dave’s kids, Ewan was the one she found most difficult to understand, probably because he was the middle child, trying to find his place between his younger sister and older brother, to say nothing of Lucy. “What would you like to do?”

“I think I’d like to stay here with Paul and Dad.”

Rose sighed. Dominic didn’t like Dave staying one bit; she doubted he’d change his mind about Ewan. “How about helping me make some tea for everyone? They need to make Paul comfortable and we’d only be in their way.”

Ewan shrugged, his eyes never leaving his father who was gently mopping Paul’s brow with a flannel. Rose could see Dave shaking, and from time to time he wiped his face. She wanted to go to him, but she knew he needed to be alone with Paul. She took off her shirt and tossed it into the hamper; she had put on a camisole as well, so she decided to change into one of her own shirts rather than the blue scrubs.

Lottie had started making tea as Ewan tried to tell her what had happened. She looked very worried when Rose returned to the guest quarters after she’d had a quick wash and put on a fresh shirt.

“What is a coma?” Evie asked, clutching Amy to herself. She was sitting at the table, her drawing abandoned.

“He’s so deeply asleep that we cannot wake him,” Rose said. “It helps his body fight whatever is inside him.”

“Aren’t the aliens going to come to help him any more?”

“Yes, they are on their way, sweetheart,” Rose said, replacing one of the clips in Evie’s hair that had come loose.

“Can I stay? I want to see them,” Evie said.

“I’m afraid that’s for your Dad to decide.”

“No,” Ewan chimed in. “No, we stay. He needs us.”

“I want Mum,” Evie protested.

Rose crouched beside Evie’s chair, her heart breaking. “I know you do, sweetheart.” She rubbed her arm.

Tears were pooling in Evie’s eyes. “Can I have a cuddle?”

“Of course you can,” Rose said, drawing the girl into her arms.

This was how Dave found them a couple of minutes later; Rose had included Ewan in the embrace. Lottie stood by somewhat helplessly. The sight of them brought fresh tears to Dave’s puffy eyes, and Rose let go of the children as he clamped his hand over his mouth. Evie looked on in horror as she saw her Dad break down. Rose took his arm and whisked him away to the bedroom; this wasn’t for the children to watch.

As soon as she had closed the door behind them he crumpled to the bed, his body racked with sobs. Rose climbed onto the bed beside him and enfolded him in her arms, her nose itching conspicuously in sympathy. She began a gentle rocking motion, rubbing his shoulder, whispering to him. Any pretence that the relationship was purely professional was blown now. But she couldn’t care less. They just needed to be careful about telling everyone.

“I can’t lose him too, Rose, I can’t,” Dave cried, his voice choked. He turned into her embrace, his face damp against her skin.

“You won’t. Dominic is doing everything he can,” she said. Holding Paul while he’d coughed had been terrifying; she’d thought he’d die in her arms, and there was nothing she could do.

“You keep saying that.”

“I know, my love. But I believe in him. And the Sheeryan. They’d never let us down.”

“He’s in a coma, Rose. A coma!”

“Yes, yes, he is.” What else could she say?

“Rita was by herself when she died. I don’t want that for Paul, but they won’t let me near him.”

“They’ll need to get things ready, Dave. They’ll let you back as soon as possible. He’s only a child. He needs to know he’s not alone,” Rose said. She pushed him gently away from her, cupping his face with her hands. “Look at me, Dave.”

He looked at her, his eyes red and swollen, his bottom lip trembling. She wiped his cheeks and jaw dry with her hand.

“We’re doing everything we can.”

His lips crashed onto hers, taking her by surprise. He deepened the kiss, plundering her mouth. Rose had to push him gently away to catch her breath. Also, his urgency and neediness, while understandable, were overwhelming. He took both of her hands into his. “I need you so much, Rose. I love you.”

“And I love you, Dave, but you’ll have to keep calm,” she said. “The kids need you; I know it’s hard, but I’ll be there for you as much as you need me to. You’re not alone, but you’ll have to accept help.”

“We can’t tell the bairns about us now, Rose. We can’t.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I want to stay with Paul, and I want the kids to be there as well if that’s what they want. They can’t have Paul torn out of their lives like their mother was,” Dave said.

Rose nodded. “I’ll talk to Dominic. I’m not sure he realises just how raw your grief still is,” she said.

Dave’s eyes went wide. “You don’t think… we…”

“I hate leaving that up to you, Dave. I’ll support you whatever your decision. This is your family. I don’t want to… interfere,” Rose said, her heart clenching.

He ducked his head to look at their clasped hands. “I… thank you. I know. I feel a bit… weird and ungrateful for asking your comfort in bed but having to exclude you in the ward. It’s… difficult for me.”

“I feel the same.”

He sniffed. “We’ll have to tell them. Once this is over, we’ll have to tell them.”

“Yes, okay.”

Dave cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry for overwhelming you earlier.”

“Don’t be. You’re a bit of an emotional wreck.”

He chuckled.

“Now go and get yourself cleaned up. I believe Lottie has fixed you a cuppa. I’ll go and talk to Dominic,” Rose said, kissing his forehead. He nodded and stood, letting go of her reluctantly.

“Would you like me to call Sarah?”

“No. I think Anna has already threatened to come,” he said with a wistful smile.

“She that bad?”

“She’s very protective.”

“Ah. So I’d better be my best professional self.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I told you I’d support you in any way I can, Dave.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad I found you.”

Rose laughed. “You and me both, my love.”

She left the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her. Evie was standing at the other end of the hall, looking at her anxiously.

“Is he crying?” she asked softly. It occurred to Rose then that Evie was very shocked to see her Dad so helpless. How on earth, she wondered, had they mourned Rita? Had they mourned her together, or was it a more or less solitary business for everyone involved? Her heart clenched at the idea. She had been so grateful for the Doctor’s quiet company after her Dad had died. The Doctor had been quite helpless to offer her comfort, but he had been there for her, with her, as she’d sat in the library clutching a mug of tea he had made for her. That one time he had taken his time before he’d whisked her away for another adventure.

“He’s fine now, sweetheart,” Rose said. “But I think he’ll want to be by himself for a bit.”

Evie nodded thoughtfully, and Rose couldn’t help thinking that the relationship between Dave and his youngest had changed irrevocably. Just what it was she couldn’t say. For that, she didn’t know them well enough. It was, after all, still very early on in their relationship.


	38. Chapter 38

Ewan and Lucy had come to the flat as well, probably after Frankie had kicked them, and Mickey, out of the infirmary. Mickey and Ewan were playing a game of cards while Lucy was peering around the corner to see what Evie was up to. Rose briefly caught her eye. Dave’s breakdown hadn’t only shocked Evie; it had affected Lucy too, albeit on a different level. She wondered if they had figured out that she had more than a professional interest in helping them. Rose had no idea when the children had become so important to her. Suppressing a smile, she walked towards Evie.

Lottie had joined Lucy and, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, asked, “Shall we make some cookies? What are Paul’s favourite? We can surprise him when he wakes up.”

“Could we make some German cookies?” Evie suggested, still looking at Rose.

“Oh, that’s a bit difficult,” Lottie replied, clearly crestfallen about having to disappoint Evie. “Our traditional cookies are really only Christmas-style. When we make them during the rest of the year we usually make British or American recipes.”

“I like that! We can make loads for Christmas!” Evie said in excitement. Then she held Amy up for Rose. “They won’t do up.” The ribbons of the doll’s pinafore had come undone and Rose crouched to place the doll on her thighs so she could retie them.

“She’s beautiful,” Rose said.

“I gave her to Dad when Mum had her accident,” Evie said thoughtfully. “Do you think he’d like to have her now as well?”

Rose’s heart broke. “He’d love that, sweetheart.” She brushed Amy’s hair back and gave her to Evie. When she looked at Lucy she knew that she knew; or, at least, she had an idea that something was going on between her and Dave. So much for choosing the perfect moment to tell them.

“I think Paul would like chocolate-chip cookies,” Lucy said, tearing her hard gaze away from Rose. For a few heartbeats Rose was afraid Lucy was going to confront her, but she went purposefully to the fridge to get the perishable ingredients out.

“He and everyone else in this building,” Lottie said, frowning a bit. She’d caught on to the undercurrent of tension in the room. Her expression lit up all of a sudden and she nodded minutely. But, honestly, who had they tried to fool? It was impossible to keep a secret in such close quarters.

“I’ll download a recipe,” Rose suggested, walking over to the sofa where she had left her laptop. She quickly found one that sounded good, and to her surprise they had all the ingredients they needed. Mickey’s phone trilled, and when she looked at him, he mouthed at her that he’d be downstairs with Annie.

“I’ve been shopping,” Lottie said. “I thought making cookies would be a nice distraction. They love baking.”

“You are a treasure,” Rose said. “Thank you.”

They had enough milk, eggs and chocolate to make several dozen cookies, and soon the kitchen turned into a well-managed disaster area as the five of them started their project.

“What are you making?” The unfamiliar voice interrupted them and they all looked up in surprise.

“Anna!” Evie squealed, sliding off the counter-top on which Rose had sat her. She ran to Anna, who scooped her up in her arms. She was an attractive, dark-haired woman with a thick brogue and keen blue eyes. They reminded Rose of her first Doctor.

Anna let go of Evie quite quickly and straightened to speak to Rose. Rose felt like a naughty schoolgirl when Anna asked, “Who are you?”

Rose blinked, surprised at first by Anna’s nerve and lack of recognition. It would make dealing with Anna easier because she wasn’t biased by what she thought she knew about her. “I’m Rose Tyler. And you must be Anna Knowles, their aunt.”

“Yeah,” Ewan said, as if there’d been any doubt. A quick glance at the boy told Rose that the relationship between them was difficult. She couldn’t blame him; Anna seemed to be an interesting person, very self-confident, maybe borderline self-righteous. Very protective, she remembered her being described.

“Mr Smith told me I’d find you up here. Where’s Dave? And where’s Paul?”

Rose liked to imagine that the woman’s demanding tone hid her anxiety.

“Dave’s in the bathroom and Paul is being treated at the moment. Dr Henley, sent us away so he could work in peace,” Rose explained. “Would you like a cup of tea? Lottie’s just made some.”

Anna nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear, surprised to have the wind taken out of her sails by Rose’s professionalism. It was good to know that it worked so well.

“What are you making?” Anna asked, sitting at the breakfast bar with a mug between her hands.

“Chocolate cookies. They’re for Paul,” Evie informed her blithely as she placed a lump of dough onto the parchment-covered baking tray.

“How is he?” Anna asked.

“He’s in a coma,” Dave said. No one had seen him come in the room amidst the chaos. He looked a bit better, but it was still obvious that he was very shaken. The simple sentence was difficult for him to say but he managed to do so without falling apart. He drew a deep breath and stepped towards the kitchen table to try the dough. He watched Ewan in fascination as he opened an egg and added it to flour in the mixing bowl. Without adding pieces of the shell.

Anna gasped at the news and clamped her hand over her mouth. “Is he going to be all right?”

“Yes!” Evie cried. “We’re waiting for—”

Lucy interrupted her sister rudely lest she talk about aliens. Rose had a feeling it wouldn’t go down well with Anna, and she was glad that Lucy’s quick thinking confirmed it. “We’re waiting for the medicine to be delivered.”

“Well, why isn’t it here yet?” Anna asked, regaining her footing as she had something to focus on.

“It’s purpose-made for Paul,” Ewan said, enunciating the hard word carefully but still relaxed enough to be adding another egg to the mixture.

Anna looked from Dave to Rose.

“It’s true. We are in touch with experts who are working on the cure as we speak,” Rose said.

“We?”

“Torchwood Institute. I’m the director of the Glasgow branch,” Rose explained. “Dr Henley is very good, but Paul’s illness is so rare that we need the help from experts from abroad. They are on their way. We’re expecting them to arrive soon.”

“What kind of experts are they? Isn’t Torchwood supposed the be able to deal with this sort of thing?”

Rose smiled mildly, catching Dave rolling his eyes behind his sister-in-law’s back. Well, almost sister-in-law. “We are. This is just a small branch, Mrs Knowles, and our resources are limited. But we get anything we need when we need it. We know who to contact for help. ”

“Where’s Robin?” Dave asked, dipping his finger into the dough Ewan had prepared. Rose resisted the urge to bat his hand away. It was one thing that the children knew, but they didn’t want to advertise their relationship to Anna.

“He’s picking up some things at the house, but he’ll be here soon,” Anna said.

Dave sat Anna down in the lounge to explain to her what had happened. She already knew the short version, but she was a woman who had a lot of questions. Rose, Lottie and the children busied themselves with the cookies, and soon the room filled with their smell. They had just taken one tray of cookies out of the oven when Robin arrived.

“This is cosy,” he commented with a friendly smile as Annie showed him in.

“Robin! We’re making cookies for Paul,” Evie announced proudly, supervising Rose as she transferred the cookies to the wire rack to cool. At the same time Lottie was wiping Evie’s hands with a tea towel.

“Oh! Can I have one?” he asked, reaching out for one.

“They’re still very hot. You’ll burn your tongue,” Rose warned, smiling. Robin Knowles seemed to be the opposite of his wife. He was more like an overgrown boy than a stern man, but Rose knew that he was a lawyer, so she assumed — just to be on the safe side — that he was in his sheep’s clothing.

“Robin Knowles,” he said, delicately withdrawing his hand to offer it for her to shake.

“Rose Tyler.”

“The photos don’t do you justice.” The compliment was as hackneyed as it was heartfelt and sweet. Robin blushed and Evie giggled.

“You haven’t seen Dave’s,” Rose said, clamping her mouth shut as soon as the words were out. She turned hastily away, busying herself with stowing away the leftover ingredients.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anna piped in.

“It means that Rose and I have worked on a project together,” Dave said casually, thus making it sound like the most natural thing in the world. Only that the Emptiness Folder was anything but natural or ordinary. To Rose’s relief, however, Dave’s answer mollified Anna and she let the matter drop.

-:-

Robin had brought Paul’s colourful duvet, and they spread it over him, replacing the white hospital one. If it weren’t for the tube down his throat, Paul might be an ordinary boy asleep in his bed. Evie climbed onto the foot of his bed to keep watch over him.

“When’s he going to wake up?” she asked.

“Hopefully soon,” Dominic said. “Rose, can I have a word?”

Rose followed him outside, watching Anna through the window as she carefully approached her nephew. Both her and her husband’s faces were masks of sorrow. She didn’t even dare look at Dave.

“Donna has asked about him,” Dominic said.

“Donna?”

“Dr Noble. She treated him when he was first admitted to hospital. She specialises in exotic diseases and she finds the case interesting,” he explained.

“She’s interested in working for Torchwood?” Rose asked, now turning her full attention to Dominic.

“Yes. Frankie and I could need some reinforcement.”

Rose sighed. “I know. The question is, does she fit in? Would she be able to deal with, say, Uggsomegauts?”

“Yes. She was the one who alerted us to the case in the first place.”

Rose rubbed her forehead. “I wish you wouldn’t call Paul a case.”

“Sorry. It’s easier for me if I keep professional distance, but I can understand what you’re going through,” Dominic said. “The Sheeryan won’t be long now. What are we going to do about them?” he asked, flicking his head in the general direction of the Knowleses.

“They’ll leave before Aquiouk arrives.”

“About Donna.”

“Yes. Tell her to come, but I’d like to talk to her before we hire her, okay?”

“Perfect! Thank you, Rose,” Dominic said, giving her cheek a quick peck.

“What happened to your professional distance?”

“You’re different, Rose, as well you should know.”

-:-

Anna and Robin had taken the kids to pick up Boy to take him for a walk in the park, and Rose used the time to keep Dave company as he sat with Paul. She studied the pattern on the duvet as she listened to Dave read from Harry Potter. Tony had a similar one, and her heart constricted at the idea of her little brother lying like this, with a tube down his throat that breathed for him and made his chest rise and fall rhythmically, unnaturally. Paul was pale, and there was no movement beneath his closed eyelids to indicate he was just asleep and dreaming. There was no sign now of the blood, but there were two IVs, and his temperature, if high, at least seemed to have stabilised.

How Dave did it she had no idea. For some reason he only saw his son, the machinery keeping him alive fading into the background. He seemed to have needed his breakdown to summon strength.

“I love you, Dave,” Rose said, interrupting him.

He looked up and met her serious gaze with boyish surprise. Rose wanted to lean in and nibble his pouty bottom lip. “I love you,” she repeated.

“And I love you,” he said, his tone a little incredulous at first, but then he burst into one of the smiles he had only for her. “Thank you. For everything.”

 _This isn’t over yet,_ Rose wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart. Instead, she leaned in to kiss him.

Which is how Anna found them. And along with her Robin and the children.

-:-

“She’s just playing with you!” Anna argued. “Don’t you realise that?”

Dave was frozen to the spot. Rose. Playing with him? “Don’t you think she’d pick someone with a little less baggage than me? I’ve lost my wife and I’m trying to look after our four children and a business.”

“Yes, exactly! You should be looking after the kids.”

“And I’m not?” Dave asked, completely thrown by Anna’s argument. “I do everything for them, Anna. Everything. That thing on Tuesday? It’s for them, nae for me. Or do ye seriously think I could put a price on Rita’s head?”

“She’s after the money.”

Dave snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you have any idea how much money the Tylers have? Hmm? It’s a wee bit more than the Tiler you know. It should be me after her money.”

“How old is she?”

“23.”

Anna looked aghast. “You’re robbing the cradle, Dave! She’s only four years older than Tanya.”

“It’s a good thing I was young when we had her, eh? Otherwise you’d be telling me she could be my daughter.” She still could, but that was beside the point.

“Aye.”

“Anna, Rose is the cleverest, wisest woman I have ever met. She’s a lot older than it says on her birth certificate. She’s nothing at all like the woman we know from the media. You have seen her with the children, haven’t ye?” He gestured in the general upwards direction of the guest flat.

Anna crossed her arms. “Och aye? And what happens when the press find out about ye? They’ll hunt ye, Dave. They’ll hunt ye. And Rita would never have wanted that.”

Dave guffawed. “D’ye think I do?”

Anna raised her chin in defiance.

“The Tylers are doing everything they can to keep their private life private, and so does Rose. We’ll look after the bairns.”

“We?” Anna repeated.

“I love her, Anna.”

She deflated a bit, slumping into one of the armchairs in the family room.

“It’s too soon, Dave,” she said softly. “Have you thought of the children?”

“I have. Which is why we haven’t told them yet. And I think you should leave it up to me to decide if it’s too soon, aye?”

“Aye. It’s just… I miss her, Dave. And seeing you with Rose… it’s like you and Rita never existed,” Anna said softly.

Dave held his breath. “Is that what you’re thinking? That I’ve forgotten about her so quickly?”

Anna stared at him hard. “Have ye?”

“The fact that you’re asking me this is… sad, Anna.” He squared his jaw and looked away. Rita was with him all the time, and the hollow ache her death had left inside him was as deep as ever. There was rarely a moment when he didn’t feel it. The only drug that could alleviate his pain — but never make go away — was Rose. She gave him the strength to go on when he thought he was completely failing at life without Rita. At the same time he thought he might burst with love for Rose. The love he felt for Rose was the same, and yet different, from his love for Rita. Neither diminished the other. Rose was not a substitute, a rebound relationship. She’d never allow that.

Besides, Anna didn’t know Rose at all. She didn’t know that Rose had a baggage of her own, part of which was quite similar to his. She, too, had lost the love of her life, and what was more, she had to adjust to a universe that wasn’t her own. Rose had taken a leap of faith by telling him that, trusting him to come to terms with the fact that he looked like her lost love. But these were things he couldn’t explain to Anna. She would never understand. Robin adored her; she’d never had to fight for his love. Dave, on the other hand, had pursued Rita for two years and had entrusted Rose with himself and the children.

“Dave,” Anna began.

He turned to face her despite himself. He was so angry he was shaking. His boy was lying out there, in a coma, possibly close to death. And Anna had nothing better to do than question his love life? “You don’t understand anything, Anna.”

Anna sighed. “Then tell me.”

“No, Anna. You have to figure this one out by yourself.” He turned away again, wrapping his arms around himself to provide some kind of anchor and to stop the trembling. Rita had gone AWOL for six weeks, and when she’d come back to tell him she was pregnant with Paul, he had been overjoyed. Now this very child lay dying, and Rose was there. Not only for him, but also for Paul and the other children. She was there and gave them her unconditional support. If Anna was too blind to see that — and to understand that he still loved Rita and missed her terribly — she was beyond help and didn’t know him at all.

There was a discreet knock on the door and Frankie peeked inside, probably to check for survivors. “Dave? Dr Noble would like to meet you. When you’re ready.”

“Oh, I think we’re done here,” Dave said, nodding sharply at his sister-in-law. “Leave it to me, Anna. Please.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. He left with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had won the argument, and he couldn’t really blame Anna for throwing a fit. This was new to her, and she was very protective. It was only natural for her to react like this. The only thing about this he regretted was that the children had witnessed her initial reaction, and for a while they had watched them and her arguing as if they were a tennis match. Eventually Rose had suggested taking it to a more private room.

Well, Rose would get a grilling from the bairns, he was sure of that; he felt bad for leaving her. Lucy in particular would be furious.

-:-

That night, Dave sat in front of a bed full of children again, his chin propped on his folded hands as he watched them sleep. Ewan and Evie had curled up in the tiniest of spaces around their brother as if to protect him. Lucy had settled down on the sofa, where he’d spread a blanket over her and promised to wake her as soon as the Sheeryan arrived. They shouldn’t be long now, a couple of hours at the most.

The hell Anna had set loose hadn’t burned nearly as white-hot for Rose as it had for him. Robin had only muttered an embarrassed little “Oh”, and tried to drag the children away when Evie piped up, “I saw you, didn’t I? Cuddling on the sofa.”

“Yes, you did, sweetheart,” Rose said, smiling shakily.

“You’re very good at this. Dad didn’t want Amy earlier.”

Rose guffawed softly.

“Really? You and Dad?” Ewan had asked, a little incredulous. He’d been so wrapped up in his own worries that he’d been totally oblivious to everything. The idea of Dave being together with a woman other than Rita had yet to sink in with him.

“How long?” Lucy asked, her bottom lip trembling a little as she fought to control her emotions. Just like Ewan, she didn’t quite know what to make of the news.

“Have we known each other? Since 12 April. I had an accident and Dave helped me.”

“But how long have you been together?” Lucy pressed after she’d done some math. They’d met roughly three months after Rita’s death.

“About three months,” Rose said.

“Do you love him?”

Rose blinked at the boldness of the question, but if she was honest she’d have been disappointed in Lucy if she hadn’t asked. “With all my heart,” she said as sincerely as possible.

Lucy had merely nodded and left the infirmary, “To get some air. I won’t run away, I just need… to go outside.”

Rose told him that with a soft smile.

“Seems they’ve known for a while,” he’d said.

“Yeah. Hard to keep something like this a secret. Was it bad, with Anna?”

“She’ll come round, but I’m afraid she’ll give you a piece of her mind as well.”

Rose nodded.

They had spent some time with the children after Anna and Robin had left, but eventually they’d all returned to Paul’s room, where they’d occupied themselves with games and books as quietly as he’d ever seen them.

Donna, the new doctor, had come in to check on Paul, and a few minutes ago it had become clear that the fever meds weren’t working and they couldn’t keep his temperature at an acceptable level. They feared there might be brain damage, and Dave had left the room for a few minutes to rid himself rather violently of his dinner.

“Please let him live and recover,” Dave murmured in a rare urge to pray. He didn’t believe, and thinking of what had happened to his family in the past few months he wondered if he wasn’t right not to.

The door slid open and Rose came in, relief relaxing her expression. “Aquiouk is here.”


	39. Chapter 39

If Dave had seen Aquiouk in the street he would have walked past him without a further glance. He hadn’t really contemplated what to expect when Rose had told him that an alien was on his way to help cure Paul. All he’d cared about was that help was coming, and hopefully in time. Paul was hot to the touch, and the sword of Damocles hovering above him was blunt — brain damage suggested all kinds of horrible things, from a mild speaking disorder to changes in personality to loss of everything that made Paul Paul.

Aquiouk looked perfectly normal, maybe a little oddly dressed dapper in a waistcoat and tie. His tie was slightly askew and looked like something straight from a 70s film.

“Davetiler!” Aquiouk said when he saw him entering the doctors’ office. Both doctors were there, Dominic a bit bleary-eyed; Frankie had woken him barely two hours after he’d finally agreed to take a nap. Aquiouk closed the distance between them and shook Dave’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, um… Mr Aquiouk,” Dave began, unsure of alien etiquette.

“Just Aquiouk. I’m so sorry for causing you so much grief, Davetiler,” he said.

Dave suppressed a smile. “Just Dave. And don’t apologise, it was an accident.”

“Yes, but still I feel responsible. We should have taken greater care when we cleared up the crash site,” Aquiouk said. “Well, Donna and Dominic have kept me up to date with your son’s condition, but I’d still like to examine him. If that is okay with you. Here, this is the device I’m going to use.” He handed Dave what looked like a tablet computer and a small torch. “No pins, no needles. Completely non-invasive, but it’ll give me a very clear picture of his condition,” Aquiouk explained.

Dave stared at the two devices, stunned by the alien’s openness and kindness. Dazed, he nodded and returned them to the alien, who looked perfectly human and spoke the King’s English. He was wearing a shimmer and a translating device. If his medical equipment was anything like these pieces of technology, how could he not trust the alien? “Please, just help us,” Dave said.

To his surprise, Aquiouk insisted on Dave’s presence, and didn’t mind Evie and Ewan being in the bed. That was, however, when Dave regained his composure. He moved the two children to the sofa and an armchair. They’d wanted to wait up for the Alien’s arrival, but in the end both of them had fallen asleep curled around their brother, except Lucy, who had crashed on the sofa.

“Such a beautiful family,” Aquiouk said. “Are they yours?” he asked, turning to Rose.

“No,” she laughed.

“Oh,” Aquiouk said, colouring ever so lightly. “But you share a name, don’t you? I thought that was customary on Earth?”

“Some people have the same last name by chance,” Rose explained.

“But there is a bond between you. A strong one.”

Now it was Dave who blushed. “Yes, there is.” He wrapped his arm around Rose’s shoulders. The sudden freedom to show that Rose and he were together was almost dizzying.

“I’m so happy for you,” Aquiouk said with a sincere smile. He reached out for them to express his feelings physically but held back at the last moment, remembering the difference of etiquette between Humans and Sheeryan. “Well, I’d better get on with my work then, hadn’t I?”

Dave and Rose stepped away from Paul’s bed to give Aquiouk some room. Dominic and Donna had joined them, watching the Sheeryan closely. Of course they’d be interested in alien medicine. They must be having a ball, Dave thought, but at the same time a wave of protectiveness washed over him, nearly overwhelming him. He didn’t want his child to be an object for study.

Rose tightened her hold around his hand. “Dave, love, let’s give them a bit of space,” she said softly.

“No, I…” he said. He didn’t want to leave his son. He couldn’t.

“Dave, please,” Rose said. When she tugged at his hand, he realised that he was shaking. He supposed Rose needn’t be a telepath to see how upset he was.

“The bairns,” he said softly, glancing at the tangle of their limbs and bodies on the sofa and armchair.

“They’ll be fine, Dave,” she said.

He nodded and let her take him to the family room. Once there he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as closely to him as possible. “I’m so scared,” he managed to say, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay.” She was rubbing his back soothingly. He was still terrified; he knew she couldn’t take his terror away, but at least he knew he wasn’t alone. Pulling away from her he drew her with him onto the sofa.

“I have… I have this notion that… and I’m sorry, Rose, I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” he took in a shuddering breath. “I have this notion that Paul is just a problem for them, rather than a little boy.”

Rose listened to him attentively.

“I _know_ that that’s not the case, but the idea is there.”

“I know that, Dave. Did Anna give you that idea?” she asked.

“What?”

“It’s what she said to me.”

Dave slumped back into the cushions and rubbed his hands over his face. This time, Anna had gone too far. Of course, he knew that Torchwood was better than that, far better, but there had been no time to talk to Anna about it. And even if there had, he doubted his words have made any difference. “What else did she say to you?” he asked. “About being with me?”

“That I’m just playing with you,” Rose said, frowning a little at the turn the conversation was taking.

“Give her some time to realise that that’s not the case,” he said. “She will come round, eventually.”

“She’s very protective,” Rose agreed with a small smile. “You know that I’m not just playing with you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good.” She smiled and shifted a little so they could kiss. It was gentle and reassuring and he realised for the first time how much he liked her hand on his neck and cheek when they kissed.

The three doctors chose the moment he wanted to tell Rose he loved her to join them in the family room. Rose moved away from him but remained close enough for their thighs to touch and to hold her hand. He gave her fingers a grateful squeeze that also gave him strength for what was to come. He had the feeling that he would need as much of it as he could muster.

Donna and Dominic nodded for Aquiouk to begin. “Paul’s condition has reached the final stage of the Illness. There are some…”

Dave didn’t hear the rest of his words. The final stage. Did that imply that Paul was beyond help? What did that mean? He gave his head a shake. Please, somebody explain, what…?

“Dave,” Donna said. “Dave?”

Her kind but insistent voice drew him out of his confusion. “Aye. Sorry, I…”

“I am sorry,” Aquiouk said, touching his breastbone and giving him a slight bow. “The human physiology is different from the Sheeryan. If Paul were one of us, he’d… pass away soon. But there are some idiosyncrasies to the human body that are fighting back. We will draw upon them to base our cure on.”

“You mean… um… you don’t have one yet? A cure?” Dave asked, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe. Rose’s touch grounded him, and her voice was close to his ear, her breath warm on his skin. She was telling him something, but all he could hear was the rushing of the blood in his head.

“Do whatever you think is necessary, but please save my son,” he managed to say eventually.

“Are you sure, Dave?” Dominic asked, his expression one of confusion.

“The plan is to inject Paul with the pathogen.”

Dave frowned, swallowed. “You… you want to cure him with the same thing that caused the Illness in the first place?”

The three doctors nodded as one.

“What are the chances he’ll survive?”

“50 percent,” Donna said.

Dave blinked. “So if we don’t do anything he dies, and if we do he might die anyway.”

“Yes,” Dominic said.

“Is he in pain?” Dave asked. “Can we be with him?”

“He’s still in a coma, Dave. His body is protecting itself,” Donna explained. “Of course you can stay with him.”

“What do I tell the bairns?” he wondered, looking at Rose for guidance. “I can’t tell them their brother is dying, not when they’ve already lost Rita.”

“Don’t tell them,” Dominic suggested.

Dave shook his head. “I can’t do that. I can’t lie to them. I’d never be able to look at myself again if I lied.”

“Then tell them. Give them the chance to say their goodbyes,” Rose said. She knew they’d never had a chance to say goodbye to Rita. Dave hadn’t wanted them to see their mum dead; he had seen her laid out in the morgue. He’d had to go in to identify her. If for her pallor, she hadn’t looked dead and he didn’t want Evie to see her like this. She’d never understand that she wasn’t just sleeping. He wanted them to remember her as their bright, vital Mum, not a lifeless shell.

He found himself nodding.

“You should tell them as soon as possible,” Donna said.

“Do you want us to treat him?” Dominic asked.

He stared at them. “Of course I do.”

-:-

He decided to talk to each of the children separately to cater to each of their needs better. Rose had asked him if putting himself through this three times was a good idea; he had shrugged. It would never get easier, and while he cared for his children he’d forget about himself. Which had clearly alarmed Rose. “I’ll go to my Empty Room later. They need me now, Rose.”

She had accepted his decision, offering whatever he or the children needed.

He talked to Lucy first. He roused her and took her to the family room, where he sat her down on the sofa, kneeling before her and telling her what Aquiouk’s arrival meant. She just stared at him. Dave closed his eyes and ducked his head. It had been a bit much for her, for each of them, learning about him and Rose and that her brother might not live to see the morning. He wasn’t so sure telling them individually had been such a good idea after all.

“But there’s a chance he’ll live.” It wasn’t a question.

“There is, yes.”

“When this is over, will you adopt me?”

It was his turn to stare at her. If anything, he’d expected her to leave them for the Quinlans. His heart did several somersaults, and he found himself nodding in a daze. “Yes, yes I will, sweetheart.”

“Can I just be by myself for a while?” Lucy asked. Her request cleared Dave’s mind. The running and hiding was happening far too often for his taste, but her wanting him to adopt her had spoken volumes. He wasn’t losing her. She really needed time to process things.

Evie went straight into his arms for a cuddle. She sensed something was wrong. “Is Rose leaving? I don’t want her to go,” she said, sandwiching Amy between their bodies.

“No. No, Rose isn’t going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly. He inhaled her shampoo, its sweet, fruity scent. He’d forever think of Evie when he smelled it.

“I met Aquiouk,” she informed him. “He doesn’t look like an alien.”

He smiled. “He doesn’t want to scare people when they see him.”

“I’m not scared. He’ll help Paul, won’t he?”

“Paul is very sick, Evie,” he began, exhaling slowly. This was it. “He is not sure his cure will work.”

“He can try something else,” Evie suggested.

“There is only one medicine for him, sweetheart,” Dave said. “I’m telling you because I’d like you to say goodbye to him if you want. You know how sad you were you didn’t say goodbye to Mum properly when she left school?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. He held her close and kissed the top of her head while he gave her time. “Will he and Mum be together?”

“I think so, yes. But listen, Evie, the medicine might work. Yeah? Do you understand that?”

Evie nodded, as serious as a five year-old could get. “I don’t want them to be alone. It must be scary,” Evie said.

Dave’s heart broke at her words and he held her even closer until she squeaked in protest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was loathe to send her away so he could talk to Ewan, but he knew that he couldn’t possibly have her there. Ewan wasn’t going to take this easily, and for a moment he didn’t want to tell him, but he couldn’t betray him like this. Ewan would never forgive him if he learned that his sisters had known.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Ewan said, kicking the ball right at him. Dave should have anticipated that Ewan would play the forward line. He’d been beating himself up over this, despite everything.

“If Aquiouk’s cure doesn’t work, yes,” Dave said.

“Will it?”

“We don’t know. Which is why I wanted to talk to you,” Dave said, taking a deep breath. “Aquiouk will wait with the treatment until after you’ve said goodbye. Just in case.”

“I didn’t say goodbye to Mum.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Did you?”

Dave nodded.

“Did it help?”

“It did.”

“Then why didn’t you let us say goodbye?”

“She didn’t look like Mum. More like a wax doll,” Dave said, opting for bluntness.

Ewan nodded. “Aye. I’ll go now. And Dad?”

“Aye?”

“I like Rose.”

Dave smiled and stood. “Come on, let’s go.”

-:-

The children wouldn’t leave the room when Aquiouk administered the pathogen. He used the drip and slowly depressed the plunger. Dave chewed the inside of his cheek, biting hard into the flesh to keep himself from lunging forward and tearing the instrument from Aquiouk’s fingers. He was frozen in place by his terror, and he thought he’d ought to get the bairns out of the room, but he was unable to bring himself to move. So when Rose brushed the back of her hand over his, he nearly jumped.

“Hey,” she said softly, slipping her fingers between his. At the same time warmth spread through him, the warmth of Rose’s love, followed by the desire to wrap him up in her comfort. She was brushing his mind with hers in an attempt to support him. He squeezed her hand in encouragement. The warmth and comfort, Rose herself, grew more intense, and he welcomed them, thinking _Thank you, I love you_ , over and over again.

 _I hear you_.

He looked at her, trying to smile.

It was the moment Paul’s heart stopped.

“We need you to leave now,” Donna said as the alarms on Paul’s monitors went off, bleeping furiously. But the blood had turned to ice inside him. Dave was unable to move. He couldn’t leave his son alone now.

“Dave!” Donna insisted.

“No.”

He knew why the warmth had left him. Rose had let go of him. He was, somehow, aware of her shepherding the children out of the room, Ewan and Evie wide-eyed, while Lucy was so shocked she was equally reluctant to leave.

“I’m staying,” she insisted.

“Come with us, please,” Rose said.

“You’re not my Mum!” Lucy accused.

Rose took a deep breath. “No, I’m not. I’m not trying to be. But please, come with us. They need their space and Ewan needs you.”

Dave, finally able to react, saw the venom in Lucy’s eyes. “Go with her. Please.”

“We need the crash cart!” Dominic yelled at no one in particular. Aquiouk had stepped back from Paul’s bed, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help the human boy, that he’d get in the way because he wasn’t familiar enough with the human heart.

“I’ll come with you,” he said. He touched Dave’s shoulder before he wrapped his arm around a stunned Lucy and steered her out of the room behind Rose and the wee ones.

Donna was rubbing the paddles together to spread the conducting gel. Dominic had disconnected the ventilator and opened Paul’s gown baring his pale, narrow torso. Donna pressed the paddles to his chest, warned everyone to step away and pressed the buttons on the paddles.

Paul’s body jerked on the bed like a soft toy shaken by an angry child.

“No, please!” Dave murmured at no one in particular. When he looked at the lines on the monitor, they were flat. All three of them. “No!”

Donna looked up briefly at him while Dominic injected Paul with something Frankie had just passed him. “You want us to stop?” Donna asked.

“No. No, I… I just can’t…”

“I think you’d better leave,” Dominic said, looking over his shoulder, dropping the empty syringe. It hit the floor with a barely audible clatter and rolled beneath the bed.

“I can’t,” Dave said.

“Loading!” Frankie announced.

Donna shocked Paul a second time, with a stronger burst of electricity this time. Paul’s body arched on the bed and slumped back onto it. They fixed their eyes on the monitors. The three lines remained flat.

After a long long time there was a spike. And another. And another, accompanied with tentative bleeps. Paul’s heart was beating again.

Dave stumbled backwards, crashing and flopping into the armchair when he realised that his son was still alive. He watched Dominic reconnect the ventilator. They cleaned up Paul’s chest and tugged the gown back into place, covered him up with his duvet that looked more out of place than ever.

Paul was alive.

“He made it,” Donna said. Her voice sounded far away through the rushing in his ears. He looked up dumbly.

“What?”

“He made it, Dave. Aquiouk had warned us this was going to happen. He’s out of the woods now. The cure is working.”


	40. Chapter 40

Rose took Lucy out to lunch after the court proceedings were finished. The judge had granted Dave more than the full amount of the compensation demand submitted by Stuart's firm. They'd expected to get the full amount. Getting more had come as surprise to all of them. If anything, they had expected to get the full amount, but getting more had come as a surprise to all of them. The judge had not disclosed the reason for his decision; he’d only said that the extra had been agreed to by the Glasgow Police. Dave had wanted to stay and find out the reasons, so Rose had taken Lucy for lunch. She had been surprised that Lucy had accepted her invitation without hesitating; she had also been amused at the fact that Lucy had had no trouble at all standing her ground when it came to Anna. Her aunt had asked her to come with them, but Lucy had flat-out refused, which had called on Robin to use all his powers of persuasion on his wife to leave her be. In the end, Dave had stepped in, seriously cross, demanding that everyone accept Lucy’s decision.

Stuart Quinlan had briefly talked to Rose, apparently to make sure that Lucy would be safe with her. It was amazing to see that he had extended his fatherly instinct to protect to his first-born daughter. What had amazed Rose even more was how quickly she had developed the urge to protect Dave’s children. It had left her reeling momentarily, but there would be enough time to explore these feelings later, when she was alone.

They went to a restaurant that was designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh because it was quiet, and she thought the space might appeal to Lucy.

“So, does Stuart know you’ve asked your Dad to adopt you?” Rose asked. Having gone through the whole process of adoption and parental responsibility and her birth certificate with Pete, Rose sympathised with Lucy. All that hadn’t been strictly necessary, but Pete had insisted that they get their papers in order. But she couldn’t tell her that. Rose hated having to keep it from Lucy, but given enough time she might tell her that she was an alien. It was just too much too soon.

“Yes,” Lucy said, sipping her water. “He wasn’t happy, but I suppose he knew that I’d make a decision one day. I really like him and his family, but Dad’s… Dad. And Paul, Ewan and Evie are my family. They know me best.”

“You know, when you told me I’m not your mother,” Rose began.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, meaning it, but there was also something that she wanted to add.

“I don’t want to replace your Mum, because I can’t. But I hope you understand that, although we are friends, sometimes I will have to be the adult and support your Dad’s wishes,” Rose said. “I know it’s hard to accept. I really do, because I went through the same thing.”

Lucy was silent for a while, and Rose was beginning to think that she’d lost her, when Lucy said, “It must be difficult for you.”

Rose smiled. “Yeah, it is. When I met your father I had no idea about you four. Five.”

“You’re not…” Fear flared up in Lucy’s face.

“No. I couldn’t,” Rose said, genuinely alarmed by Lucy’s fear. “I love your Dad. So much. And I really like you too, and your siblings. You have… Well, your Dad wouldn’t be the man I love if it weren’t for you.”

Lucy blushed and worried the edge of her damask napkin. She probably wasn’t used to being treated like an adult, and for a moment Rose feared she’d overwhelmed the girl. “I’m glad that Dad has you,” Lucy said. She took a deep breath before her leap of faith. “It’s just… it’s so soon. I thought that Dad had forgotten about Mum.”

Rose reached across the table for her hand. “He hasn’t, and he won’t ever forget about your Mum. She’s your Mum. She gave you and the others to him. And I know I won’t ever be able to replace her. I don’t want to.”

Lucy smiled in relief, and so did Rose. Apparently, she had managed to assuage the girl’s legitimate fears. She’d expected Lucy to give her a much harder time than she had, particularly after what had happened between them before and after Paul’s treatment.

Their food arrived, and for a few minutes they concentrated on their meals, praising the taste and texture. Rose was glad that Lucy liked the place; she hadn’t been sure where to take her. She'd wanted it to be a nice place, maybe one that could become their 'special place' where they went when Lucy needed to talk.

“Why did we get more money than Stuart’s friend asked for?”

“I have no idea, sweetheart,” Rose said. “Your Dad’ll find out.”

“Can I ask a favour?” Lucy asked.

“Sure.”

“Please don’t call Dad ‘your Dad’ when you’re talking to us. Just use his name, aye?”

Rose smiled. “I will.”

-:-

That night, Dave went to Rose’s house. Lottie looked after Lucy, Ewan and Evie while Paul was at the Priory for one last night. He was recovering well, and fast, given the severity of the Illness. Aquiouk was still there. He decided to stay on for a bit to do some research. Dave had been very reluctant at first to agree to him using Paul as a guinea pig. He’d explained that Rita would have gone ballistic and he didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea either, but he also understood that Aquiouk’s research would potentially help others. Just how that worked, he had no idea because humans were obviously so different.

Dave had an overnight bag with him, a nice one made of leather that was a bit scuffed from use. It was obviously a favourite. Rose smiled when he put it down carefully and drew her into his arms for a kiss hello. He seemed a little less shaken than he had that morning in court, but Rose knew that this night was going to be intense.

“You’re a million miles away,” he said, breaking the kiss. He didn’t let go of her and Rose cursed herself for adding to his worry.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m still a bit shaken,” he admitted, “but I’m here now.”

She smiled. “We’ve been worried about you.”

“We?”

“Lucy and I, when we had lunch.”

“Ah,” he smiled. His eyes softened and he closed them, taking a deep breath. “I went to Rita’s grave. After court.”

Rose rubbed his arms.

“I haven’t been there since the funeral. I just… can’t bring myself to go there. It’s… the idea that her body’s there is just too…” He faltered and clicked his mouth shut. He leaned forward and their foreheads touched.

“I know the feeling,” Rose said. “It’s the same with Dad’s. Well, was.”

He nodded, never breaking contact with her. They stayed like that way for a while, and Rose remained silent when he didn’t speak. Eventually, he turned his head to kiss her cheek. “I’ve got something for you.” He bent to get a flat, white box out of his bag. She had seen this kind of box at his studio; photo paper came in it. He had wrapped a red ribbon around the box. Evie had written “For Rose” in her best handwriting on the lid; Rose could imagine the girl’s tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully drew the letters with one of her fat coloured pencils.

Rose accepted the box with a smile.

“It’s from the bairns,” he said, shrugging.

“Oh?” Rose was surprised. She’d thought that Evie had insisted on writing her name on the lid, but she’d never expected a gift from the children. “Why don’t we go to the lounge?”

Dave shook his head. “I’ve got something for you too, and it’s not something for the lounge.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “What would that be?”

Dave laughed; it was a most welcome sound. “Not what you’re thinking.”

“And I spent so much time making myself pretty for you,” Rose sighed theatrically.

Dave smiled. “But that would be a gift for me, wouldn’t it? Go on, open it.”

“What about your gift?”

“I promised the kids I’d give you theirs first.”

Rose undid the bow and lifted the lid. Wrapped in bright yellow tissue paper was a picture frame. The kids had put the frame into the box face down. Rose glanced at Dave before taking the frame out. It was a photo of him with the kids in the park. They were crouching, with Evie sitting on Dave’s thigh and looking at him. They were flanked by Paul, Ewan and Lucy, all of them smiling at what Evie had just told Dave.

“It’s… this is lovely,” Rose said, flabbergasted. She hadn’t expected such a personal gift from the children, particularly not so soon after meeting them. But then again, they had gone through a traumatic experience together, and obviously that had led to them bonding with her more quickly than she had expected.

“Show me,” Dave said. “They wouldn’t tell me which one they picked.” When Rose showed him the photo, his smile was a sweet mixture of wistfulness and joy.

“Tanya took this the day before Rita died,” he said softly, taking the frame from her. “We went to a match to give her some space. She was revising for her exam. Maths. She was foul that day — her words, not mine.” He returned the frame to her.

“Happy days, then,” Rose said, even more touched by the gift now.

“Aye. They really like you, you know,” he said.

“How’s Paul?” Rose asked. She hadn’t been at the Priory since early Monday morning.

“He’s doing great. Apparently, he’s more than happy to help Aquiouk with his research.”

Rose knew how Dave felt about that. “He’s an amazing boy.”

“Aye.”

They held each other’s gaze for a while, and Rose couldn’t shake the thought that she might not be able to have Dave’s baby. Sadness wrapped its fist around her heart and she had to look away.

“Hey? Rose, what is it?” Dave asked, touching her arm.

“It’s… nothing,” Rose said, smiling the fear away. “You said you have a gift for me as well?”

Dave frowned for a moment, debating if he should let this drop or press her for an answer. She willed him to leave her be with an intense gaze, and he did. “I do.” He picked up his bag, grabbed her hand and led her upstairs to her bedroom.

“So I was right after all,” Rose chuckled as she followed him, staring at his bite-able bum before her.

“You, Rose Tyler, have a very dirty mind,” he said, turning around so she was looking at his crotch.

She tucked the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “You think?” His eyes dropped to the line of her shirt, which from his vantage point revealed the curve of her breasts and a hint of her lacy bra.

He grinned at her.

“Come on, you,” he said, tugging at her hand.

He steered her to sit on her bed facing the window. “Now close your eyes.”

She obeyed, wondering what he was up to, if maybe he’d be naked by the time he allowed her to look. She could hear him taking something out of his bag, the rustle of newspaper and, finally, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he moved to her bedside table. _No naked Dave, then_.

“Open your eyes, my love.”

Rose blinked into the brightness of her room until she saw Dave crouching in the corner. He was holding up a battered picture frame that seemed to come straight from one of the collections of the Old Tate. The picture it held was their handprints on the wall.

“It’s a bit rubbish compared to the gift from the bairns,” he said, shrugging.

Rose blinked again. They’d shared their first kiss after making the pair of prints. It was the last thing she looked at before going to sleep and the first thing she saw when she woke in the morning. “It’s not,” she said, her voice cracking.

The frame was the perfect size for the prints, and she loved its flaking paint and chipped artwork, and intricate pattern of vines and leaves. There even was a flat bit left for the tag. It was the only new bit of the frame. She rose to read what the label said.

“That’s… very true,” she said. “Thank you. I love it.”

Dave smiled, slumping a little in relief. “I picked it up a car boot sale and thought it would be perfect for... us.”

“I love you,” she added, taking the frame and carefully leaning it against the wall. They were in the same position they had been the day they had made the handprints. She leaned in for a kiss. This time, it wasn’t tentative. They deepened it almost immediately, and Dave’s arms came around her. They shifted, never breaking their kiss, until Rose was sitting between Dave’s legs. They kissed for a long while, holding on to each other, just revelling in each other.

Eventually, Rose leaned her head on his shoulder, draping her legs over his thigh. They sat in silence, lost in their thoughts. Dave’s heart was slowing down as his breathing evened out. She undid two of the buttons on his shirt and slid her hand inside. He wasn’t wearing a vest, so she curled her fingers into his chest hair before smoothing her palm against his pecs.

“The judge refused to explain why he upped the amount of the compensation,” Dave said, covering her hand through the material of his shirt. He turned his head to kiss her forehead.

“Did he actually say that?” Rose asked, frowning.

“Not in so many words. He just said he’d come across some additional information that warranted it. He wouldn’t explain what it was, though.”

“Maybe you don’t want to know,” Rose suggested. She knew they’d made him watch the CCTV footage of the accident, which had left him visibly shaken.

“Aye,” he said eventually.

“Sometimes it’s better to let things go and move on,” Rose said. It was one of the lessons she’d learned from the Doctor that she applied very carefully these days. She knew it would take Dave a while to accept this, but he’d eventually see her point.

-:-

When Dave returned from the bathroom with a damp flannel for her to clean herself up after they’d made love, she’d slid to sit on the floor in front of the frame.

“Rose?” He tried to hide the alarm in his face as he dropped to his knees beside her.

“We are, aren’t we?” she asked, looking at him. She pointed at the label on the frame. “A _Work of Art_.”

Fin


End file.
